


The Burnt Photograph

by sunfloria



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1987, 1988, Angst, Baby, Bromance, Canon Compliant, Comedy, Duzie, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Family, Femslash, Fluff, Friendship, Good Boy Chester, Hella 80s pop culture references, Humour, Implied Sexual Content, Internal Conflict, Jancy, Jancy baby, Jopper, Love Triangle, Lumax, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Sexual Content, Mileven, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Self-Discovery, Violence, after season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfloria/pseuds/sunfloria
Summary: A secret. A mission. A warning. Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers are finally starting their life together until a joyous occasion spins out of control. Now, the gang is back together and fighting the latest manifestation of an ancient threat. (Set after season 4, but written after season 3. Uses all canon ships. Some OCs introduced. Slow progression at first.)
Relationships: Dustin Henderson/Suzie, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Original Male Character(s), Jonathan Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Original Character(s) & Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Murray Bauman/The Truth, Original Character(s) & Original Character(s), Possibly others... - Relationship, Robin Buckley & Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley/Samantha, Robin Buckley/Samantha Stone, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & The Party, Will Byers & Eleven | Jane & Dustin Henderson & Maxine Mayfield & Lucas Sinclair & Mike Wheeler, Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Will Byers/Original Female Character(s), Will Byers/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 34





	1. The Test

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for checking out my story. :) I recently marathoned all 3 seasons of Stranger Things in about 2.5 days and I just can’t keep my mind off of it... I can’t believe it took me so long to finally watch, but I’m here now and I guess I have no choice but to stan! Over the course of the series, I felt a strong draw toward all of the older teen characters but mostly to Jonathan and Nancy. They’re just so cute together, but it seems to me like most of the fandom is kind of indifferent to them... I guess I kinda understand because after they became official, they kinda did more stuff in the background, but it still makes me a little sad. There aren’t too many fan works out there centring around Jancy, so I decided I would just make my own and hopefully others might too! Jancy fans, now that we’re all trapped inside the house and season 4 is postponed, let’s do something with our time. Whatever cool artistic thing you do, keep doing it, but make it Jancy please! LOL

I should probably mention that even though this story is intended to take place after the events of the main story, Stranger Things hasn’t actually ended so I’m making a lot of guesses about the resolution of season 4 (and... maybe another few seasons?). I’m going to try not to go into too much of the canon lore so that maybe this fic will still be enjoyable even if it ends up contradicting canon by accident... That said, all ships that are canon as of season 3 or foreseeable into season 4 are included here.

I’m posting this on a few different websites (FFN, AO3, Wattpad, Deviantart... probably under the same username) partially because I’d like to get as much feedback as I can and partially because there will be a little bit of reader participation in this story which you can find details for in the author’s note at the end of this chapter. Please leave your feedback as it’s super helpful and I hope that you enjoy!

* * *

_Friday, May 15, 1987_

Robin sighed as she stared at the pine-tree shaped air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror of her beat-up old red Toyota. Over the past week, she had deduced that Steve was the one who normally went on these rushed and secretive outings, but today Keith had him re-stocking shelves. That meant he would be sorting through the pile of miscellaneous returned rentals that had been left there backed up for way too long which meant that he would be taking a later lunch break than usual and that of course meant that Nancy had no choice but to ask Robin for help.

Even as she sat there in her car, Robin didn’t buy their excuse. Their mutual friend did most of the talking in hushed whispers while Keith threw suspicious glances at them occasionally from over the shelves. Supposedly, it was something about a PMS related emergency. Robin was cool, Steve had tried to assure Nancy beforehand over the phone. If they had shared the truth with her instead, she wouldn’t tell anyone and she wouldn’t think it was _too_ crazy to be trying this yet again after having done it three times already... But she just couldn’t bring herself to allow him to tell her the real reason why she needed a ride. That was Nancy for you. She just had to be absolutely sure before she could to any conclusion, whether the matter was her own issue or the judgment of one’s character. Her private information was something she kept in a vault for which herself and her most trusted confidants had the key and Robin just hadn’t reached that stage yet. Nothing against her, of course. Robin seemed nice, but the two of them really only knew each other through their mutual friendship with Steve. Sharing something like this with an acquaintance just felt so... awkward.

She still couldn’t figure out why Nancy hadn’t just asked her boyfriend to drive her (surely, he was well acquainted with her hygiene products considering they’d been living together for a while), but after getting over the weirdness of it all, Robin found that she actually didn’t mind running this little secret errand for her friend-of-a-friend so she refrained from asking. Robin loved her breaks with Steve and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to eating lunch without her bestie. Who else would lament with her about the single life? Sing their favourite bands out loud without a care in the world about who heard their awful karaoke? Hook her up with her fix of the Devil’s lettuce and laugh about absolutely nothing while only getting high enough to last the lunch hour? Nobody other than her boy, Steven J. Harrington, of course! But today, Steve was too busy for that, so this new mission would have to fill up her hijinks quota for the day. The whole mystery convenience store run sounded kinda fun at first, but now, 20 minutes after arrival, she had officially finished her sandwich and heard _Englishman in New York_ on the radio rotation twice. Parked in front of a convenience store that was a little out-of-the-way compared to the one where Joyce Byers used to work (why didn’t they just go there?), Robin sat and absently watched a gaggle of stay-at-home moms out with their pre-school aged tots in the park. Not exactly her idea of entertainment. Robin could hardly imagine that being her life, but hey, it floats some people’s boats. Still, she was bored. She was more than bored. She was bored out of her mind. She should have been high as a kite and messing up Steve’s stupidly perfect hair that always seemed to fall right into place right now. What was taking Nancy so long? It didn’t take 20 minutes to grab some tampons and Midol, maybe even a chocolate bar. Even if she had decided to use the store’s tiny ladies room, she should have been back by now.

Suddenly, the passenger door swung open and the car bounced slightly as another person entered. _Speak of the Devil..._ thought Robin. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Nancy replied, not even glancing up and instead looking intently at the glove compartment as if it were about to come alive.

Suddenly, looking at the expression on Nancy’s face felt uncomfortable. It held a strangely high amount of concern given the supposed situation. Suspiciously, Robin noticed her passenger had no shopping bags with her either. She could only venture a guess. “Did they... not have your brand?”

Nancy’s rouged lips curled into a not-so-convincing smile as she tried to choose the briefest answer possible. “Oh no, I, um. You know, _cramps_.”

Robin inhaled and nodded. “Ah, that sucks.”

The two of them sat in awkward silence for a beat before Nancy suddenly took her purse again and reached for the car door as if she were going to make a break for it.

“What are you doing?” asked Robin.

The brunette had to think fast. “You know, I think I forgot something. Jonathan wanted me to pick up something for him. Do you mind waiting a little longer?”

“I mean, yeah. That’s cool,” _K_ _inda..._ Robin didn’t want to pry, but Nancy’s bizarre behaviour made it so hard for her not to ask. “You look a little flustered.”

 _Shit_. The other woman’s smile became tighter as she tried to wave the accusation away, one heeled pump already outside of the door. The lying that she had had to perfect in high school was less effective right now for some odd reason. That combined with the fact that Robin was so very observant made this especially difficult. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just really crampy right now. Don’t worry about it.”

Nancy stepped out of the vehicle entirely, handling her handbag rather roughly in her rush. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Robin sighed back into her seat as she watched the brunette hastily make her way back into the store, her purple dress swishing behind her. She was contemplating whether or not she would really have to wait here for another 20 minutes until she saw it. Her brain couldn’t even register what it was at first as she leaned over the pick the thing up off the floorboard. Whatever it was, it wasn’t her’s. It must have fallen out of Nancy’s purse when she grabbed it so suddenly. Robin stared at the thing in her hand and when she finally realized what it was that she was holding, everything finally clicked into place. Realizing now why this whole trip had been so weird, Robin grabbed a tissue from the box up front and laid the thing down on top of it and that on top of the arm rest. Just then, Nancy exited the little store, face slightly flushed after interacting with the same nosy cashier yet again (why didn’t he just mind his own goddamn business?), and marched toward the car. She re-entered the vehicle in a huff which she quickly tried to mask, but she wasn’t quite fast enough for the blonde’s hawk-like eyes. “I got it. We can go now.”

“Uh,” Robin pointed at the thing between them awkwardly. “You dropped something before you left.”

Nancy looked from Robin to the thing on the tissue and paused. Suddenly, she regretted not throwing the damn thing away in the trash. She had meant for it to be the last one, the one she would finally show to Jonathan at home later when she confessed the real reason why she had been missing lunch with him, but she just couldn’t accept it. Usually, Nancy was quite good at accepting the truth, even if it was disastrous. She was used to it by now after everything that had happened in her life. But something about this was just different. This had nothing to do with scary monsters or the existence of some terrible alternate dimension or some shady group of people trying to exploit it for their own gain. This was something more personal. She had learned over the years to face impossible challenges head on, things that only existed in Lovecraft’s worst nightmares, but somehow these private matters were no easier to handle than they’d always been. How could this, a rather typical event in any mundane life, really be scarier to her than people-eating monsters or Russian assassins or possessed civilians hellbent on assimilating her into their hivemind?

Two little red lines taunted her for being too afraid to accept the truth this time. At this point, she admitted, it wasn’t just a false positive, but she always had to be sure. Nancy wrapped the thing up in the tissue and stuffed it deeper into her bag alongside the new one she had just bought. That would make five now. Even that nosy cashier noticed.

Nancy muttered her thanks as Robin pulled out of the parking spot and just nodded back, preparing for an awkwardly silent ride.

* * *

Pulling into his normal parking spot, Jonathan cut the engine on the same old ride he’d had since high school and stuffed his latest mixtape into his pocket before he went about gathering his equipment from the trunk. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler had mentioned buying his girlfriend and himself a new car for their new life together. The 1971 Ford Galaxie 500 was so many years old and was already showing signs of unruliness back when Joyce was having Jonathan practice driving in circles in the lot outside of her workplace. A second-hand buy, it started out as a family vehicle for Joyce and her two sons, then it became Jonathan’s when his mother upgraded to her Ford Pinto, then it bafflingly took on the role of get-away vehicle during the hectic years of his teens when Will was missing and he’d first started talking to Nancy. Now, he too might be upgrading soon thanks to the Wheelers, but he would miss his old clunker dearly. Sure, it was annoying when it would give out at random times, but he had started to enjoy being a do-it-yourself mechanic and working on its issues. The old thing didn’t run quietly at all and bumps in the road would cause his tapes to skip, but the low rumble of the elderly engine reminded him of cool summer nights when he needed some alone time and cruising aimlessly with the window open was just what the doctor ordered. It can be hard to change sometimes, even if it’s arguably for the better.

And yet his life had done nothing but change for many years. Almost paradoxically, Jonathan had become so used to instability during those years that the constant shifts almost felt like stability in and or itself. Once upon a time, he was a quiet, artistic loner with only his family to rely on, but his group of allies suddenly seemed to balloon in no time at all with some of the most unlikely people risking their lives for his brother. His days once consisted of going to school, working, and finding time for Will and his hobbies; then, he was fighting monsters and going on long road trips with this girl he never thought he’d be able to confide in before. There was once no such thing as magic besides the kind that would happen when he and Will were locked in their own world with nothing but music and each other; but then there was an innocent little telekinetic girl who longed to know of that world which was seemingly only enjoyed by normal people like him. And when she lost her father figure and they moved states away from the only town they ever knew, that girl had suddenly slid perfectly into his little family unit as his new little sister who at first would just look at him like she wanted to say something before shyly looking away, and then eventually, El (or Jane as her schoolmates in Maine had called her) became comfortable with asking him all of her boy-related questions. Why did Mike sound so weird over the phone? Should she be mad about the fact that Caroline Meyers was his lab partner instead of Dustin? Why wasn’t he responding to her letters as quickly as she wanted (but of course, this was usually because she’d forgotten to check the mail)? Will found the boy talk annoying (he just wanted them to hurry up so they could start playing with the new Atari 7800 the Wheelers had sent for Christmas), but Jonathan was warm and patient and he didn’t mind it when she would lay in his bed and air her teenage grievances while he sat at his desk. He would ruffle her hair and laugh at how adorable she was while he planned out how he and Nancy could finally move in together. He really did have a soft spot for these kids. He remembered El crying and making him promise to call them when he finally did move away from Maine and back to Hawkins where rent was still cheap despite developments. Will cried too. And Joyce. They all cried a bit, to be fair, as if they wouldn’t follow soon after him.

Life was nowhere near as fast paced as it had been, and somehow that was the hard part. Even with how much nicer everything was, returning to normal life (a _better_ normal) after the chaotic years of his youth just wasn’t that easy for a reason that Jonathan couldn’t quite understand. With El and Hopper, his family was bigger and closer knit than ever. He was living with a woman who loved and cared for him (he even found the thought of marriage rapping on the door of his mind and begging to be let in every now and then). They both had jobs working for a magazine that had just opened its head office in Hawkins (the lead photographer at their old newspaper gig liked Jonathan’s work so much, he was willing to overlook what happened and act as a reference for him – and Nancy too, Jonathan pleaded). It wasn’t NYU and their apartment was tiny and their landlord was a bit of a douchebag, but life was finally good. Jonathan knew he should have been happier, but something was wrong and it wasn’t external. It was something inside of him. There was something about living constantly on edge for so long that just... changed him. Really, Jonathan figured, his brain had just been fooling itself in feeling so comfortable with instability. It was something he taught himself when his father left and it was what kept him alive all those years, but now, it seemed to have no purpose other than to make him and Nancy nervous in the dark, suspicious of sharp corners, pause when the lights flickered. It made Jonathan subconsciously check to make sure the magnets on the fridge were working. It made Nancy wake abruptly some nights to make sure she hadn’t been transported to a dimension where he wasn’t sleeping beside her. The two of them still went to the gun range whenever they had time and money, mostly so that he could practice since she had an almost naturally great shot. He was thankful that she was so talented, but an urgent need inside of him drove him to improve. The handgun Jonathan had basically stolen from Lonnie all those years ago was still in its place in the glove compartment of the old Ford Galaxie 500. Just in case. Joyce used to say grimly that the way he would absently test the magnets when he lived with her reminded her of those soldiers who don’t come back home the same way they left.

When Jonathan reached the front door of his apartment, it felt almost as if he’d just been placed there. He was so lost in thought that he’d managed to drag his photography equipment across the front desk and up the elevator to the third floor without his notice. The heavy bag certainly didn’t feel this absent when he was at work, dragging it around after his boss and setting up its contents. Whatever. He shook it off, fished his keys out of his pocket, and set the bag down underneath the coat rack so he could take his shoes off.

“Nance,” he called as he knelt down to untie the Adidas sneakers Nancy had given him for his birthday. “I’m home.”

In the bathroom, Nancy nearly jumped with a start from where she sat on the closed toilet lid. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she hardly heard the door creak open.

“H-hey, babe! Be right there,” she called back. Quickly, she stuffed the used test into the cabinet under the sink behind an unopened box of condoms. She just wasn’t ready to discuss it yet.

Making her way down the short hallway decorated with the pictures she’d taken herself with the Polaroid instant camera Jonathan had gifted her one Valentine’s Day, Nancy saw her boyfriend setting his borrowed camera equipment in the tiny closet near the kitchenette. She remembered that Jonathan had an early shoot Monday morning and his boss routinely had him take the work equipment home the night before a morning job so they wouldn’t have to stop by the office. He wouldn’t get to drive her in to work, but that was fine. She’d already arranged for a coworker to pick her up on their way. Slowing down, she nearly tiptoed over to him as he struggled with the duffle bag.

“How was work?” she asked, peering over his shoulder slightly.

“In a word, chaotic,” her boyfriend grumbled.

Nancy winced. “Was Micah on your back again?”

Jonathan sighed at the mention of his boss’ name. “He booked us back-to-back today. I was running around, setting things up, adjusting lights, you name it. Then we packed it all up, went to the next location, and did the same thing all over.”

After years of shitty coworkers and even shittier bosses, Jonathan had developed a pretty high tolerance for bullshit. Luckily, he always knew how to float to the top of the brown river and just tread for as long as he needed to before getting into his car and driving home. Not that he hated his job – far from it. But Micah could be demanding, especially under stress, and while Jonathan would never challenge him (and thus possibly forfeit the chance to move up), it felt good to vent to Nancy every once in a while.

Remembering a particularly amazing little turd from that day, Jonathan turned slightly from where he was crouched to glance up at his girlfriend.

“Oh my God, Nance,” he said in an exasperated tone that let her know he was about to unload. “One of the models just complained the whole time she was there. It was always something. Her water wasn’t cold enough. Her tea wasn’t hot enough. The shoot was taking too long. She didn’t like how the softbox made her look so we used the beauty dish but she didn’t like that either so we used the umbrella... And each time she demanded changes, I had to set the shit up and put it away, set it up, put it away...”

He groaned, still adjusting the camera equipment so that it could fit into the tiny closet among their belongings.

“Ah, a primadonna,” stated Nancy.

Jonathan chuckled. “You have _no_ idea.”

Once Jonathan had arranged things to his liking, he stood up from where he was and made his way to her, greeting her with a smile and short kiss. Nancy found herself smiling against his lips as if the thoughts swirling in her head mere seconds ago had all evaporated. It was hard not to feel safe and comfortable when Jonathan was around. His aura was like a thick fleece blanket and the smell of him reminded her of crisp leaves and mint tea.

“Anyway, enough about her,” Jonathan held Nancy against him and looked down at her, his forehead nearly touching her’s. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“A little better,” she lied and it wasn’t the first lie she’d told him this week. Every day for the past 3 days, she and Steve had been making the same trip to the same out-of-the-way convenience store where she would buy yet another pregnancy test, avoid the same cashier’s accusatory looks, use the test in the same store bathroom, and get the same two red lines each time. _Positive_. Every time afterwards, Steve would drive her back to the office and try to convince her to just tell Jonathan already, but she couldn’t do it yet. Those tests are not foolproof and she had to be sure, so she made up excuses as to why she was going elsewhere instead of spending lunch with her boyfriend (and their typical group of colleagues too). It wasn’t too hard to lie because she had actually been sick. When she could no longer eat certain foods without retching was when Nancy first became suspicious. She believed herself that it was just a stomach bug at first, but then when she missed her period, a panic set in. What baffled her was that she was on the pill and took each dosage diligently. What could have caused it to fail?

The shower. That’s what it was. It must have been that one time; that _one single time_ when they tried it in the shower. Jonathan had never owned a proper shower in his life (his childhood home only had a bathtub) so he had voiced (in his own sly way that everyone but her would think impossible for him) the idea of “christening” the thing so to speak. She should have known it wasn’t a good idea, but something about quiet, thoughtful Jonathan Byers playfully seducing her, leaning on the shower door with his head cocked back just slightly and staring right through her with dilated pupils, made her body ache all over for him. Even thinking about it now made her heart flutter. Needless to say, the experience brought out something exciting in them that neither had ever seen before. Maybe there was something about the angle or the water flowing between them... Nancy was no gynecologist, but she and Jonathan hadn’t done much out of the ordinary before (they had more or less found what they both liked) and the _one_ time they tried it from the back, she was vomiting up her breakfast weeks later? Perhaps there was some kind of connection there. She would ask her doctor about it some time; the same doctor she’d claimed to have had an appointment with that day.

“So what did Dr. Martin say?” inquired Jonathan. His arms still embraced her midsection and pulled her into him.

“He gave me something to calm my stomach,” Nancy fibbed. She had picked up some Pepto-Bismol to help cushion her story. Lying to him felt bad, but things were... complicated. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just take some of that and try to relax.”

His grip on her loosened as she gently broke away, heading toward the tiny kitchenette with an exacerbated look. “Oh shit, I didn’t get to start dinner yet.”

Usually they would both come home together, but on those odd evenings when they didn’t, whoever came back first would typically start preparing their meal. In her rush to take her fifth pregnancy test, it had completely slipped Nancy’s mind. She made her way toward the small blue fridge which was covered in decorative magnets with more Polaroids and peered inside.

“Sorry, Jon,” she sighed. “I totally forgot. Um, let’s see...”

Before she could start making suggestions, he was suddenly right behind her, gently grabbing the hand that held the fridge open and pulling her away. “It’s alright. Why don’t I make dinner tonight?”

“What? But you’ve been out all day,” protested Nancy. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Well yeah,” Jonathan grinned with a shrug. “But it’s no big deal. I’ll just throw something together. Besides, you’re the one who isn’t feeling well.”

She looked up at him with an expression of guilt for more than just having her boyfriend work in the kitchen after he’d had a very long day running around after his boss. Not that Jonathan wasn’t used to that. He had usually ended up making dinner for his mom and brother after a shift at his shitty line cook job in high school since Joyce’s shifts often ran late. He was used to it, Nancy knew, but that didn’t mean his life shouldn’t be easier now that she was around to bear some of the load.

“No, I’m fine,” Nancy insisted. “I’ll make dinner.”

“ _Nancy_.” Jonathan was using that tone of voice he’d perfected over the years when he had to fill Lonnie’s role of older male figure for Will. He’d had to use it on El sometimes too. Every once in a while, it would slip out when he was talking to someone closer to his age. Even Joyce had heard it at least once. It was this stern but soft, almost fatherly tone that didn’t command but instead came from a place of concern. His hands had slipped around her shoulders now and were gently guiding her out of the kitchen. “I’ve got this. Go rest up. I need you to get better, okay?”

As if she didn’t feel bad enough. _God, why does he have to be such a sweetheart?_ she thought.

Nancy ended up reading in their shared bedroom instead of watching Miami Vice on the sofa in the small living room. She didn’t want to have to watch Jonathan whipping together one of his mom’s famous casseroles just a few feet away when he should have been taking a relaxing shower (although she _did_ love his casseroles). Her mind kept wandering back to the cursed little thing underneath the bathroom sink and then to her midsection. Absently, Nancy placed the book down beside her and ran her hand across her stomach. How surreal it was to think that somewhere inside, there could actually be a piece of her joined with a part of him; something that would become an entirely new human being in just a few months. That’s when realization finally set in. She was going to be a mother. And Jonathan, a father. For the first time that week, her lips curled into a smile at the thought of it – at the thought of tiny little feet and messy little hands, a playful little laugh and soft dark hair. Maybe they would have Jonathan’s eyes, a warm umber like swirling hot chocolate. Maybe they would have her button nose that Jonathan loved to place kisses onto or the freckles which Nancy herself had borrowed from her own mother and that her boyfriend thought were so cute. Maybe they would have Joyce’s wavy hair that wasn’t really apparent on Jonathan at all until it passed his shoulders (as he’d worn it in middle school). Truthfully, any mix of the two of them would be so absolutely perfect to her. She could fall in love with that person without ever even meeting them.

But then Nancy opened her eyes and she was back in the same dingy old apartment; the one with the crack in the bathroom wall that they were constantly pestering their landlord to take a look at. The one with the air conditioner that would sometimes just quit on them in the middle of a heat wave. The one that they had agreed to put up with for a while in order to increase their shared savings. It’s true that a big part of Nancy was so unbelievably happy at the thought of being pregnant with Jonathan’s baby, but she also thought of their finances. When they first moved in together, they had a sit-down so that Jonathan could teach her about budgeting, a skill that had been essential for him growing up. He wanted to make sure they were on the right track because he’d been having to deal with these adult issues since about 8th grade and he knew what happened when things were off track. Worse, he’d seen it. Nancy grew up blissfully unaware of the hardships faced by people whose lives just danced around the poverty line. He never rubbed her face in it, but he needed for her to understand... to keep them both safe. The two of them made plans together. They had begun mapping out their future for at least the next few years. Sure, Nancy thought, the way things were going, they would probably have the marriage talk at some point and children would definitely be a part of that, but this was too soon. There was so much in the world that Nancy believed Jonathan deserved... Things that circumstances had deprived him of in childhood. If she wanted to go to university, all she had to do was arrange it with her middle-class parents. If Jonathan wanted to go – and oh boy, did he ever – he had only what they’d saved to fall back on. Jonathan was smart, talented, passionate, and willing to wade through whatever bullshit he had to if it meant achieving his goals (hell, he’d always done it before). Jonathan Byers deserved to go to school, and if money was the one hurdle he couldn’t jump – _if a surprise pregnancy_ _was the one hurdle he couldn’t jump_ – then that would be a damn tragedy.

Nancy turned onto her side and covered her mouth to catch the sound of her sobbing before it could make its way down the hall and into the kitchenette.

* * *

_Tuesday, April 28, 1987_

It’s hard to describe just how dark and alone it felt in that place.

Of course, having been there so many times, she was used to it but it took a long time to adjust after her very first visit.

It was cold, just barely cold enough to send a shiver through her tiny body. Everywhere was black, but somehow unlike any sort of darkness she had ever seen elsewhere; a type of darkness that shouldn’t be real. It was less that is was the absence of light and more that it was the absence of anything. A void. Absolute nothingness. Beneath her feet, there was always some sort of liquid. She could hardly ever see it and she couldn’t even fathom what surface she might be standing on, but it was always there, lapping against her skin and making her steps feel unsteady. Somehow in the absence of everything, there was still this – this world that she could only enter when the lights and sounds of the tangible world fell beneath her. It was here where she had encountered _it_ – the creature from the tear in the fabric of reality; a terrible and unholy place at first, but later, a useful tool once she learned to master it.

El took a step forward, the liquid bending around her foot and sending ripples that seemed to stretch to eternity. Glancing about her, she couldn’t understand why she was here. The last thing she remembered was beating Will’s high score at Ms. Pac-Man, a fact that he lamented over until it was Hopper’s turn to use the TV. She had contemplated calling Mike again to wish him good rest, but she stopped herself before her hand reached the phone. Was she calling too often? Will just shrugged when she asked. He was no help at all when it came to romantic relationships. It was too bad she couldn’t just ask Jonathan about boy troubles whenever she wanted anymore, but she made a note to talk to Mrs. Byers about it in the morning.

And then she went to bed.

Yes, that’s right. She did go to bed. El hadn’t consciously used her astral projection powers, so why was she standing there in that place?

Suddenly, the void seemed to distort.

_Cau ght--..-. circ-es..._

Startled, El stared frantically about her into the vast abyss. Try as she might, her eyes just could not find the source of that noise, so she forced her heart to steady itself as she focused. A breath in. A breath out. In her mind’s eye she could see herself standing alone like a beacon against the nothingness. A swallow. A breath in. A breath out. _Show me_ , she thought in a whisper that evaporated as soon as the void touched it.

_Th--... G o sl-..._

El’s eyes shot open the second she heard it again, but still could not catch the source of that sound. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her glances around became more rapid. Panic set in shortly after confusion did. What was that noise? Why was she here? Why did the abyss seem to twist and break as if the strange sound were biting and clawing at it? _Please stop! I don’t want to be here!_

_I.. lo-- st.- w-..._

_-T im..e..._

The void churned and ballooned in front of her as the sound became sharp, stabbing against her eardrums. Instinctively, El’s hands clasped over her ears in an attempt to block it out, but the noise just kept ringing and the emptiness kept twisting. _Stop!!_

_\--all ca-... w-.. ait... Tim e-..._

Suddenly, there she was.

El looked up, tears stinging her eyes. The first thing she saw was her red hair, like fiery starlight against cosmic nothingness. Then, she noticed the familiar gown. It was just like the one El herself had been forced to wear back before the day that the air of the outside world touched her face for the first time. The girl was slightly taller than her, barefoot, and stood with her back facing El. Somehow, the cacophony around them could not reach her. Instead of chaos, the void about the girl remained pure, uninterrupted. There was a great calm that wafted off of her even as what appeared to be blood dripped slowly down one leg before disappearing into the inky depths below them.

_T-..e..._

Before El could do anything, the girl whipped around to face her, extending her hand in El’s direction, desperation in her eyes as she called El’s old name.

“Eleve-”

Immediately, El jolted upward and found herself in bed, exactly where she last remembered being. It took a while for her to realize she was safe. Sunlight was shining through her window and the familiar sound of static was crackling beside her. El turned slightly to see the purple clock radio which Dustin and his family gave her for Christmas. Images from the night before made themselves visible again in El’s memory. She had left the radio on and must have fallen asleep without shutting it off. It seemed that the signal had broken up at some point during the night, but through the static noise, she could vaguely make out the end of _Time After Time_ by Cyndi Lauper.

Her breathing now steady despite her bewilderment at the night’s events, El swung her legs over the side of her bed and wiped off a trail of blood trickling from her nose.

* * *

A/N: So you made it to the end of chapter 1! Thanks for reading this far. :) I like to try to have the next chapter of whatever I’m writing prepared before I publish the current one so hopefully, I’m finished or almost finished chapter 2 and maybe working on chapter 3 right now. I’m going to aim for weekly updates, but please be patient if that ever changes.

On to the reader participation portion!

I need help from all of you in deciding the details regarding Nancy and Jonathan’s baby. I’ll need a name and a sex so please leave your suggestions in your review. What I’m thinking is that I’ll just choose the name I like best among whatever feedback I get from all of the sites I post this on (and I’ll probably think up a middle name myself based on that). As for the sex of the baby, that’ll be more of a vote. Just include in your review whatever you want and I’ll tally up the votes from all three websites. For the name, I’m looking for something that makes sense given that this is a kid born in the 80s. It doesn’t have to be from the top common names for the decade, but I think it should make sense given the timeline and the culture. If I don’t end up getting any reviews at all or if none of the names fit with the setting, I’ll probably just end up choosing something myself... But I really hope it doesn’t come to that! lol

So! Summary of what I need...

  * a given name for the baby which makes sense given the setting (you may also submit a list of possible names and names for different sexes)
  * a vote for the baby’s sex (tallied between the sites I post this on)



I’ll post the name of the reader whose name suggestion I end up using. I’m not sure which chapter the birth will happen in yet, but once I know, I’ll post when I’m done collecting votes and names.

Anyway, hope you consider participating! I also hope that you’re enjoying this story so far. See you in chapter 2!


	2. Tapioca Pudding

A/N: Hello, everyone! Thanks so much for the feedback on my first chapter. :) I’m currently reading all of your reviews and I should have replied to them all by the time this story is up. Thanks for all of your name suggestions and voting on the sex of the baby! I’m taking note of everything and I’m liking a lot of the ideas you guys are giving me. I’m still accepting entries so if you still want to submit something, I would encourage you to do it!

I was creating an outline for this story and I’m not fully finished just yet (there are details that I haven’t been able to flesh out yet), and it’s looking like this story might be around 15 chapters long... That might be my longest fanfiction yet! I have summer school starting up soon, so I’m hoping I can try to get this finished before then and just update every week. If there starts to be more space between updates, that’s likely why. I’ll definitely warn you guys when I can foresee any issues.

Oh, also, I noticed that someone else did this is their fanfic and I guess I should too. Just so everyone knows, there will be spoilers of some of the extra Stranger Things material (like the novels or the comic books). You don’t have to be familiar with those things to read and understand this fic, but that’s just a warning. lol

Without further ado, here is chapter 2!

* * *

_Thursday, May 14, 1987_

“This is insane. You know that, right?”

Sometimes, Nancy really wished that Steve would just shut up for once. They had just left the convenience store for the third time, but unlike what they had done over the last two days, Steve wouldn’t just be dropping Nancy off back at the office. As the light turned green, the dark caramel BMW rumbled back into motion. The expensive machine which was once pristine and irresistible to all the high school girls back in the day was now a little rough with age, but Steve didn’t mind that much. He had become more independent in recent years, rooming with Robin in an apartment not too far from their workplace. Of course, that independence meant he was more or less cut off from his family’s money which meant that he couldn’t just get a shiny new car whenever he wanted, but the old 733i was still perfectly usable and he took care of it as well as he could. It ran smoothly at least, which Nancy was thankful for with her now sensitive stomach. She was holding together quite well, but something about the urgency in Steve’s voice made her feel worse.

“Steve, not now,” she responded, her annoyance mixed with light nausea. “Please. I am _really not_ in the mood for a lecture.”

“I just, I can’t believe this,” he continued, shifting into the right-most lane in anticipation for a turn. “I can’t believe you haven’t told him. You took three tests already!”

“And each test only has about a 99% success rate, Steve,” Nancy snapped. “Or at least, that’s what they claim on the box. A false positive is _not_ impossible.”

“Okay, but you’ve taken three tests and they were all positive. _Three tests_ , Nancy! How likely is it that you’re part of the 1%?”

Nancy didn’t bother telling him that after three times, the chance of a false positive was actually drastically lower than that. She didn’t want to think about it anyway. “Look, it’s not like I’m never going to tell him. I just want to be absolutely sure when I do.”

“But why are we going to Planned Parenthood?” the confused man asked, giving her a short look before his eyes returned to the road. “I mean... you’re not gonna... _you know._.. without telling Byers...”

“Of course not!” Nancy replied, trying to hard to hold back her irritation with the dingus beside her. She tried to remember how he hadn’t hesitated at all whenever she called even though he was definitely going out of his way. Steve was being a good friend even if it annoyed her. “Planned Parenthood is not just an abortion clinic. They provide sexual health services of all kinds and–” she was getting off topic. “Whatever. The point is that I would never make a decision either way without talking to Jonathan first. I just want to know about all of our possible options before I break the news to him.”

“Or you’re stalling.”

Nancy’s head snapped in Steve’s direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve sighed and pushed his head into the driver’s seat head rest, his perfectly coiffed mane eternally flawless regardless of the circumstances. “Nancy... How long have you two been together? A few years now? I’m really not understanding why you’re not happy. I mean when you first told me the test was positive, I thought you’d be thrilled, but then you weren’t. And then we came out here again and I thought, ‘Okay, she’s nervous’, but now, I’m starting to think that you’re just scared to tell him... And I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”

The car was silent before Steve continued. “Look, I mean... Jonathan loves kids. At least, I think he does. Have you seen him with the brat pack? He’s pretty good with them if I do say so myself. He might be their second favourite,” first place, of course, Steve would award to himself. “If it makes you feel better, I could totally see Jonathan being happy with a bunch of rugrats just hanging off him. He just seems like...” Steve shrugged and tapped the steering wheel, looking for the right words. “I dunno. Father material? Is that something people say...? Whatever. He strikes me as very family oriented, especially with everything that happened to Will.”

There was more silence. “Nance, what’s up? You two aren’t having a fight or anything, are you?”

“No,” she replied quickly, staring at her knees in front of her. “No. That’s not it.”

The young woman beside Steve breathed in deeply. She really didn’t want to get into it right now, but Steve was her friend and he had already come this far. In the eyes of friendship law, he would definitely be an accomplice in this whole plot at this point. He may as well know the whole story. Nancy trusted this guy with her life, but she couldn’t quite open up that can of worms herself just yet, so she left out the details.

“We had plans, Steve,” she admitted, propping her thin elbow up on the lip of her window and cradling her face with her hand. “We had all of these plans for the future and I don’t know what’ll happen to them now.”

Steve glanced sympathetically at her from the driver’s seat then back at the road. “I’m sure you guys can figure something out. I mean, you were legitimately the smartest girl in our graduating class. If the past few years have taught me anything, it’s that you’re resourceful and you and Byers are like... a team? Peas in a pod? I dunno. You guys came up with that idea to booby-trap the Byers house years ago and you always did the detective work back when we were dealing with weird shit. You guys just mesh together. I know you can adapt to anything and I’m sure Jonathan can too. He’ll change his plans. You know him. Family always comes first.”

She paused before responding. “That’s the thing. I don’t _want_ for him to have to change his plans.”

For the first time that day, Steve was stumped. As hard as he tried, there just wasn’t anything he could say that would solve that problem. He flicked on his blinker to signal a left as he thought for a moment.

“You should let him decide though, shouldn’t you?”

The brunette turned to him again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you should let him decide what he’ll do,” he repeated. “Life happens, Nance. Plans always change and you can’t stop that. Let him sort out what’s most important to him and he’ll continue accordingly.”

“S-Steve...”

“You know, you say that _you_ don’t want for Jonathan to have to change his plans for the future, but you really don’t know. Maybe Byers isn’t as rigid in his planning as you think.”

“Steve...”

“I mean, possible TMI, but if you wanted a guy’s perspective, any time you nut in a girl, you gotta expect the chance it might go south. Pill or not.”

“STEVE!” Nancy yelled urgently, causing her friend to jump.

“What?!” He could only afford her a glance, but that was all he needed to take in how suddenly pallid and sweaty her face had gotten. Finally, the nausea had won and Steve had spent enough time partying in high school to know when someone was about to blow chunks. Before she said anything, he was already scanning the road for somewhere to stop.

“Pull over.”

* * *

_Saturday, May 16, 1987_

“Yeah, mom. I don’t know about tonight.”

Jonathan glanced back into the living room from where he was on the phone in the hallway. They had just finished their lunch of leftover casserole, but poor Nancy just couldn’t keep it down. As he stood talking to Joyce, she was nursing a large bowl of tapioca pudding on the sofa and watching _Magnum, P. I_. For some reason, it was the only thing she ever seemed to want nowadays and the only thing she could eat consistently without throwing up. They used to keep little lunch packs of it around in the apartment, but it was never a really go-to snack. They would always opt for banana bread ( _with_ walnuts, as Jonathan preferred) or brownies or something else that was cheap and delicious to tame their sweet cravings, but Nancy was all about tapioca pudding now. Once, he found her awake at 4am, standing over the kitchen stove in her panties and one of his t-shirts, making an entire batch of instant pudding so that she could scarf it all down herself. Jonathan liked pudding just fine, but the amount she made to eat made him want to gag. Not Nancy, apparently. Banana bread and brownies tended to make her sick now as did many other foods, which meant that they’d been missing the weekend dinners at the Byers-Hopper residence for the past few weeks.

“Oh, again?” asked Joyce, her disappointment apparent in her voice. “Is Nancy alright? She’s been sick for weeks now.”

“The doctor says it’s just a stomach flu,” the young man explained. “Should go away soon. He gave her something for it.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” his mother responded. “Jonathan, I think you and Nancy should get a second opinion.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“It just... doesn’t sound like a stomach flu to me, Jonathan. You know, sometimes these doctors don’t consider all of the possibilities.”

Jonathan looked confused as if his mother could see him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Joyce hesitated. “Where is Nancy anyway?”

He looked behind him to check even though he already knew there was only one place she could be. Sure enough, there was his girlfriend, half-way through her bowl and fixated on an exciting chase scene.

“She’s in the living room... Why?”

“Is she eating that pudding again?” Joyce asked.

Jonathan froze. How did she know that? “Uh...”

On the other line, Mrs. Byers inhaled deeply. “Jonathan, be honest with me now... Have you two been...” she glanced into the next room over to make sure that Will and El were in fact outside with the rest of the kids and not playing with the Atari. Regardless, she still spoke in hushed tones when she returned to her eldest son. “... Using protection?”

Jonathan let out a surprised, “ _Mom!_ ”, and winced. Nancy looked over from the couch and he gave her a reassuring nod before her attention returned to the TV. He shifted around from one foot to the other uncomfortably before continuing softly.

“Yes, we do use... _that_.”

Joyce shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe it is a stomach flu, but it sounds like... well, pregnancy.”

Jonathan stared incredulously at nothing in particular. “What? No way.”

On the other end, his mom put her hands up in front of her as if he could see what she was doing. “I’m not an expert, but I’ve been pregnant twice and I’ve got a feeling. Call it women’s intuition.”

He chuckled a little. “Oh come on, mom.”

“All this tapioca pudding she’s been eating...” Joyce smiled, a few memories dislodging themselves and seeming to materialize in front of her. “You know, _you_ made me eat like an animal!”

“Oh really?” her son grinned.

“Yes! I have never eaten so many canned peaches in my life,” Jonathan was laughing now, so she continued. “I never wanted real peaches. It was always the canned ones... And it wasn’t even just any kind either! I only wanted the Del Monte ones they used to sell at Kohl’s back when it was just a grocery store.”

“So is that why I love your peach cobbler so much?” Jonathan asked playfully.

In the living room, Nancy had just finished her bowl of tapioca pudding and was trying to scrape any remnant of it into her mouth with her spoon. She just couldn’t get enough of it. Nancy had already demolished every snack pack of the stuff in their home, but thankfully, the instant stuff was cheaper and made bigger helpings anyway. Just as _Magnum, P. I._ was ending, Jonathan got off the phone with his mom and joined Nancy on the couch.

“Hey,” he said, taking a seat beside her and draping an arm over her shoulders.

“Hey,” she replied, placing the empty bowl on the coffee table and then leaning into Jonathan’s body. “Was everything okay?”

Her boyfriend nodded. “Yeah, mom’s fine. She wants us to come over as soon as you’re feeling up to it.”

“Aw,” Nancy sighed. “I feel bad that we haven’t gone in so long.”

“Don’t,” he smiled and laid a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry about it. Mom understands.”

Nancy smiled into his chest. Even in the early days, Joyce had always been supportive of their relationship. The two of them were never exactly good at hiding the fact that Jonathan often sneaked his girlfriend into his bedroom at all hours of the night where they would talk until morning, make out, or otherwise pleasure each other in the way that new lovers do. Joyce was aware and she was pretty cool about it. She would give her son knowing looks some mornings when he would run off to his car as if Nancy hadn’t climbed out of the back of their old single-story dwelling and wasn’t already waiting in the passenger seat for him. The day after, a box of condoms mysteriously appeared on the desk of Jonathan’s bedroom and they knew the jig was up. When he came out of his room to go to the kitchen, Will wore an expression of little brother’s disgust and Joyce straight up asked if Nancy wanted to join them for dinner. After that day, they just used the front door and all was well because Joyce loved that they had found each other. Since they moved out, she would half-teasingly drop hints like _‘don’t you think hydrangeas would be perfect for a bouquet?’_ and _‘oh, such-and-such is so lucky to have grandchildren!’_ into conversations with her son. There was no question that Joyce had been missing the two of them these past few weeks, but she wasn’t the only one. The second that the family moved back in to Hawkins, Will and El made a point to visit the apartment as often as they could. Mike would often accompany them and sometimes the other kids would be there too, but it was such a small space that they usually preferred to see Jonathan and Nancy whenever they visited the much larger Wheeler residence. Hopper liked seeing them when they were at the Byers-Hopper house as he found the Wheeler residence too froufrou for his comfort. Nancy noticed he was settling into blended family life just fine, but what surprised her most was the attachment El had developed to both the Byers brothers. When the three of them were together, it was easy to forget that they were not blood siblings. At the thought of the now teenaged Eleven, Nancy looked up at her boyfriend with a worried look.

“So, is El doing alright?” she asked.

Jonathan turned his head away from the TV to meet her gaze. “Yeah, sounds like it. Mom says she hasn’t had any episodes recently.”

“That’s good,” she replied but her inquisitive mind wouldn’t let it go. “Do they have any idea what could have caused that?”

The dark haired man shrugged beside her and breathed in deeply. Truthfully, he had been worried about his almost step-sister ever since he moved out and she had her episode not too long after. “Hopper spoke to Dr. Owens about it, but there really aren’t too many people we can ask about El’s powers. Owens said he’d look into it on our behalf, but that’s about the best we’ve got right now.”

Nancy sat up slightly to look Jonathan in his eyes. As soon as she did, he could see the gears turning in her gaze. “There aren’t many people associated with Hawkins Labs who are left around, and of those people, there aren’t many we can trust, but didn’t El say there were others out there like her?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I bet if we could find them, they might have answers.”

“I mean, sure, but how would we do that?” he asked. “It’s not like they’ve got a section in the phone book.”

Nancy bit her lip pensively. She had no idea how many like El were out there, but chances were they kept a low profile. Even with the one young woman who El had connected with, she had to be lead to her through what remained of the fragments of her mother’s mind. She could maybe use her astral projection powers to find the others, but it seemed cruel to put her through that given that something strange was happening with those same abilities. That could be a last resort. There had to be something an average person like Nancy could do.

Unsatisfied, she snuggled back against Jonathan’s chest. “Yeah. You’re right.”

And that was the end of that conversation, but as he squeezed her shoulder, the young man knew his girlfriend well enough to know that her mind was still racing through all the possibilities. He tried to turn his attention to the TV then, but something was tugging at his thoughts. Looking over Nancy’s body, Jonathan’s mind drifted back to the conversation with his mom. There was no way his girlfriend could be pregnant... right?

* * *

_Sunday, May 3, 1987_

The first thing he became aware of was the night sky. A sight like this was not typical in the bustling city of Indianapolis. It was a big blue tapestry which stretched upward to an unfathomable eternity dotted by billions of shining lights that you would never know were actually fiery giants up close. His consciousness still cloudy, he could still remember the taste of her rouged lips as the two of them clumsily shoved themselves into the back of the taxi. He couldn’t quite remember her name – he couldn’t even remember if it was what she’d whispered into his ear under the boom of the loud club music around them – but the way she moaned underneath him when his fingers entangled themselves in her blonde locks and wrapped her legs around his midsection were unforgettable. He tossed crumpled wads of cash at the uncomfortable driver before he and his new lady friend made their way into the dingy little hotel room on the outskirts of the city. As they exited the cab, she said something to him. He must not have heard her through the haze of alcohol. It didn’t matter soon because she just started feverishly kissing him again in the elevator until they almost missed their floor. She was sucking on his earlobes as he drunkenly tried to find the hole for the key and the two of them stumbled in when the door finally opened. They backed away from the closing door and toward the bed to get straight to business. His hands began clawing at her clothes, trying to get her out of them as soon as he could. As the man kissed his way down the woman’s neck and cleavage, he noticed a beautiful aqua-coloured stone hanging between her breasts. The way the light danced about it, it almost looked as if it were made of a delicate droplet of water. Just then, the woman placed her hands around his head and pulled his lips back up to hers, her legs spreading to welcome him in. He pulled back then to get a good look at her and an ear-to-ear grin spread across his face. It was at that moment that he heard a clicking noise.

“Alright now,” a strange male voice said making the man’s blood run cold. “You’ve had enough.”

The last thing he remembered was a loud popping sound, a searing pain in his back left side, and then a moment of bewilderment at the woman before him, who wore not a look of shock or fear, but instead a solemn expression. After that, he blacked out.

Suddenly, the world seemed to come back into view as the man’s consciousness returned. There she was – the woman from the club, fully clothed and walking just beside him as someone else dragged his body across a field. He tried to move even despite the horrible pain in his side, but to his horror, he found he was bound and gagged. The helpless man looked at the woman directly in her eyes and tried to scream to for help or perhaps for mercy, but she wouldn’t even return his gaze. His heart pumping fast, the man panted and sobbed against his restraints.

“Shut the fuck up, begotten scum,” growled the male captor who was pulling him along, turning swiftly to hit the man in the head with something hard and metallic. Now bleeding from both his forehead and his midsection, the man just panted weakly, afraid of being abused again if he made too much noise.

“He wouldn’t make so much noise if you would let me kill him,” the woman said to the other man, sharply and in a hushed tone.

“What? And miss out on having a little more fun with him?” the male kidnapper’s smirk was almost audible.

The victim could see the woman shake her head under the moonlight and when they stopped, she knelt down to his level, acknowledging him for the first time after their brief tryst. Her eyes reflected a kind of sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s not your fault. It’ll be over soon.”

The male kidnapper laughed darkly. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something back at the hotel? Were you actually starting to fall this guy before?”

“Fuck you, Cass,” the female kidnapper snapped back.

“Enough,” said a second male voice, this one deep and far more commanding than the first. Given any other situation, this man might have sounded warm and almost fatherly, but right now, it was all the victim could do not to wet himself at the sound. The other two captors immediately stood at attention to this new male presence. “We are to dispose of him quickly. Those are our orders.”

The first man twitched slightly almost as if to quickly stuff his disappointment back down his throat before it had a chance to come out. The woman felt triumphant, but didn’t dare break her collected demeanour. “Yes, Brother,” they said in imperfect unison.

The more awe-inspiring of the two men turned then to their captive. He had been busy at work while his kidnappers conversed and he had finally succeeded in steadying his heart rate enough for his battered brain to focus. The man closed his eyes, fixating on the ambient sound of the wind, and brought himself back to that familiar state. In his mind’s eye, he stood in a forked hallway, the walls seemingly made of an impossible solid abyss, which terminated in three heavy ornate doors. The man stepped closer, the shallow black water splashing beneath his feet, and touched the metal handle on the middle door. Taking a breath in, he turned it to enter the room which would contain the mind of his most authoritative captor, but as soon as he put pressure on the handle to move, the man’s hand was struck with what appeared to be a small bolt of green lightning. Confused, he tried again only for the same thing to happen. The door refused to be opened. The man stepped back and frantically tried the other two doors to no avail. He tried turning despite the mounting pain of the mysterious electricity, but still failed. This had never happened before. Why couldn’t he read them?

The victim’s eyes flew open to see his kidnappers again in the outside world, a familiar greenish light glowing faintly on their chests just underneath their clothing. He blinked in confusion, heart pounding faster, blood dripping down one nostril. The poorly tempered one glared at his captive in the darkness. “Pathetic.”

“I’m afraid it’s no use,” the woman murmured.

“Go now, Siblings,” the leader commanded softly, taking his attention away from the panicked victim. “The pyre is ready.”

“Should I shoot him first, Brother?” asked the woman quickly as he began to walk away. Her partner shot his glare at her this time.

The second man turned again to face them. “Burn him. We must finish quickly. We’ve attracted enough attention at it is.”

And with that, he seemed to disappear into the emptiness of the night just as swiftly as he had appeared. The sadistic one grabbed their whimpering captive with the same glee as a child grabbing what they know to be a brand new gaming system on Christmas Day.

“Well, looks like we don’t get to play today, friend,” he said through grinning teeth while the more merciful one let her shoulders drop. “But hey, it’ll be a good show.”

* * *

A/N: Well, I guess y’all just got a little taste of the violence that might be present in future chapters. lol Just so you know, it’ll probably get worse than that at times, so please use your discretion.

Please keep the feedback coming! It helps inspire me to write. :D


	3. Rock the Casbah

A/N: Alright guys, I realize this is an early update (Tuesday instead of the usual Thursday), but here’s what’s been going down. I love Stranger Things and I’m so happy that I’ve found it, but I might need to take a break from it or figure out my fandom a little bit. There are a lot of things that have been going on in my life and they’ve all become a lot worse in quarantine. I’ve realized that I’ve been relying on Stranger Things to the point where it’s no longer an escape but another huge stressor. lol I know that sounds weird. I’m hyper aware of how weird that sounds, but I feel like I’ve transferred all of the bad feelings I was distracting myself from onto the series. I made the mistake recently of reading some fan theories about who might die before the series ends (if anyone at all) and when you find yourself worrying about character deaths for the better part of a day, it’s time to take a break. :P

I want to get better first and foremost, but I also not ruin the show for myself. I’m going to commit myself to spending a lot more time outside and doing other things to help my mental health and hopefully start to feel better. Unfortunately, that means I might not be able to update this fanfic as often as I’d like to. I’m just letting those of you still reading know this because I don’t want to have to add writing to my growing pile of stress. I was trying to write the chapter after this one and even though I have what I want mapped out already, it was like my brain just couldn’t focus long enough for me to work on it. I’d like for Jancy to be something fun for me again like it was when I first wrote this.

I guess now’s as good a time as any to take a break anyway considering how much I wrote for this chapter. lol! It’s nice and long so hopefully, it’s satisfying for whenever I can get chapter 4 done. Hope you guys enjoy! Please leave feedback to let me know that you enjoy my work (or maybe you have some con crit, which is cool too). :)

* * *

_Sunday, May 17, 1987_

The night was cool and relatively quiet when Samantha Stone rolled up to Mapleview Apartments. She honked her horn impatiently and checked both her eyeliner and long dark hair for the third time in the overhead mirror. At this rate, she was good for time, possibly even a tad early, but her nerves just wouldn’t let her relax. This would be her first time in ages and she was naturally a little anxious. A small ripple of relief finally reached her when Jonathan made his way out of the front sliding doors and over to her passenger side.

“Hey, you’re right on schedule,” he said after opening the door and sliding in. Usually, as he’d learned in the time since he has met her at Tina’s party, his friend wasn’t so good with time.

Samantha shrugged, trying to look like she hadn’t just been in a mild panic over that night’s plans and she was in fact as cool as a cucumber. “Am I? Huh, didn’t notice.”

Jonathan gave her a raised eyebrow, seeing right through her facade immediately. Samantha released the parking break and started up her Honda, using any excuse she could to avoid meeting her friend’s knowing gaze. “Where’s Nancy?”

“She couldn’t make it,” he explained, not wanting to tell Samantha the real reason for his girlfriend’s sudden absence. “Her mom needed her for something.”

“Aw, that’s too bad.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement. Really, Nancy was feeling more fatigued than usual for the hour and elected to take a nap instead of going out with their friend. Her worried boyfriend wanted to stay home and look after his girlfriend, but she insisted that he go. Jonathan was an introvert and it took him a while to warm up to new people. This meant that he never really had too many friends and so Nancy always tried her best to support the social relationships he did manage to establish. Sam liked for everyone to think that nothing ever bothered her, but Jonathan could see her distress when she casually (what she _thought_ was casually) asked him to accompany her on a blind date. How would it look if he cancelled on her just hours before the big event? That was just unacceptable, Nancy argued. He had to go even if she couldn’t. Besides, Nancy needed all of the alone time she could get to figure out how she was going to tell her boyfriend about her little secret.

Jonathan gave his friend a befuddled look when Sam reached over to nudge his left arm at a stop light. “Jon.”

“What?” he asked.

“What’cha got?” she grinned.

He gave her a light chuckle back, knowing exactly what she was asking, and reached into the pocket of his denim jacket for his latest mixtape. “The Ramones.”

“Nice,” Sam nodded. “Pop it in.”

The shiny blue Honda took a left and made its way toward Main Street while blasting _Blitzkrieg Bop_ on the stereo. Sam nodded her head and sang along while Jonathan drummed the beat with his index fingers on the dashboard. Of course, the friends were compelled to call out “Hey! Ho! Let’s go!” in unison whenever Joey Ramone did. It seemed illegal not to any time they heard this track. At every other stop light, Jonathan noticed his friend looking into her side mirror once, twice, multiple times and he knew she wasn’t just checking the vehicles behind her, so after watching her do this a few times, he reached over to the console and turned the stereo up. Maybe the upbeat tempo would help dispel her insecurity.

The duo made their way down the road and turned onto Horton Park Avenue where the entrance to the newly-rebuilt Starcourt Mall (sans Russian base) was located. Sam parked a little ways outside of entrance 5 just as _Howling at the Moon (Sha-La-La)_ was starting.

“Ready to go?” Jonathan asked, undoing his seat belt.

Sam laughed almost arrogantly. “Bro, I was born ready.”

“Hell yeah,” he nodded, sensing his friend’s nerves.

“I got this.”

“You got this.”

“I _got this,_ man,” she repeated, pushing on the steering wheel for emphasis.

“Oh, it’s in the bag,” replied Jonathan, continuing to hype her up.

Samantha paused and turned to the young man beside her. “How’s my hair?”

“ _Sam_.”

“What?”

Jonathan gave his friend a look, both dark eyebrows raised expectantly and his hand resting on the car door. The message was clear, but he said it anyway. “You’re overthinking this.”

The raven-haired woman sighed and removed her key from the ignition. “Fine, let’s go.”

Once outside the car, the duo walked across the parking lot and entered the mall between The Gap and Sears. Their destination was Starcourt Bowl, one of the newest attractions built in the resurrected shopping centre and the place where a friend of Sam’s told her she would meet her date. Jonathan walked just a step behind Samantha and noticed his friend straightening out the top she had carefully chosen for this day. Even though she looked fine, she just kept on primping. It was like her hands ad developed minds of their own and didn’t know what to do with themselves. Jonathan placed a friendly hand on her shoulder when they passed Children’s Place and could see the bright neon Starcourt Bowl sign in the distance.

“You ready?” he asked with a reassuring smile.

Samantha nodded, her confident facade finally fading away as she anxiously played with her long hair between her fingers. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Then let’s do it.”

With that, the two made their way across the upper level food court and crossed the rainbow-coloured threshold into the establishment where _Wanna be Startin’ Somethin’_ played over the chatter of other patrons and the occasional knocking of pins. Jonathan looked around briefly and then leaned in closer to his friend.

“Where is she?” he asked. “I don’t think you got to tell me who your date was.”

“Look for short blonde hair,” Samantha replied, trying to look cool as she scanned the crowd.

The young man nodded, his dark eyes darting around to find a woman matching that description when something else caught his gaze. There was a group of tables on the left-hand side of the establishment in an area that looked like a cafe or diner. Almost directly underneath a neon sign that read “Dollar Dogs” there sat someone in a brown leather jacket with an oddly familiar mop of chestnut hair. Their back was turned in Jonathan’s direction so he couldn’t see their face, but he did see the blonde woman opposite them smile and wave at he and Sam excitedly. Samantha gasped beside him in a way that would only be noticeable to Jonathan.

“That’s her!” she exclaimed and she began walking in their direction. Jonathan followed close behind, but he kept his eyes on the person in the leather jacket.

As they approached the table, Jonathan realized that Robin Buckley who worked at Scoops Ahoy a few years ago was in fact Samantha’s blind date. Robin stood and opened her arms wide for the other woman.

“Oh my God, you must be Sam!” Robin beamed and held her date briefly to greet her.

“And you must be Robin!” exclaimed Samantha, returning the embrace. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Jonathan put on a friendly smile as he waited for them. He and Robin didn’t really need an introduction after the traumatic Starcourt experience they’d shared, but he waited his turn to greet her anyway. He looked down then in the direction of Robin’s friend and found Steven J. Harrington looking back up at him from where he was seated. He could tell by the way the other man twitched that the one time king of Hawkins High had been staring at him somewhat awkwardly. It was no secret in high school that these two did not get along. Even before what happened with Nancy, Jonathan was considered a bit of a weirdo by his peers for little reason other than that they just didn’t know what to make of him. He was a boy but he was more interested in the arts than he was in anything they expected him to be interested in, namely sports. He was a loner and didn’t seem too interested in bending over backwards to make friends, something which even the more unpopular kids found off-putting. Jonathan never really spoke unless he had to and other students only even knew he was around because they felt his presence. They didn’t get him and so they thought he was creepy. Then of course, there were the things Jonathan couldn’t control too: the old car that looked weird next to the newer models in the student parking lot, the old shoes he wore for way too long because the mortgage always came first, his inability to keep up with all the latest styles and trends because he only really bought new clothes when his old ones were worn. On the other side if the spectrum, Steve was Jonathan’s opposite in nearly every way and to high school Steve Harrington, that was very important. Status was something he prized in high school more than anything and if Steve were to be king, he couldn’t be associated with outcasts like Jonathan, so he never tried to befriend the quiet, misunderstood boy. He would join in the locker room laughter when Tommy Hagan would tease Jonathan for his performance in gym class. He wouldn’t be caught dead sitting at the same lunch table with the guy. It all felt like it was deserved back then. Why couldn’t Jonathan just stop being so weird? He never even spoke up to defend himself. Those were days that young adult Steve didn’t like looking back on. Listening to Dustin’s stories of the kids who mock him made Steve wonder what he and his former friends must have put Jonathan through. It was when he had become involved with the Hawkins Lab saga himself that he began to see his schoolmate in a completely different light. Steve was wrong before and he knew it. He tried to make it right one Christmas. He even got out of the way when it was clear that Nancy had developed much stronger feelings for Jonathan than she’d ever had for him. After these experiences, it seemed as if the two men had a mutual respect for one another, but they never quite became friends. There was just a lot of unresolved history that made things so awkward, but now as they acknowledged each other with a slight nod, they both realized that they had to face each other to support their friends. Something would have to give.

When she was finished with Sam, Robin turned her attention to Jonathan.

“Byers! I didn’t know you two were friends,” said Robin with a grin. “What’s up, man?”

The young man shrugged. “Not much,” he replied, he and Steve both trying to avoid each other’s eyes as the latter stood from his seat. Neither of the women seemed to notice as they began to make their way over to get their bowling shoes, leaving the guys standing awkwardly next to each other. Trying to be friendly, it was Steve who broke the silence first.

“Shall we?” he asked, sticking his hands into the pockets of his Danier jacket.

Jonathan inhaled and tried to match Steve’s efforts. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

* * *

_Friday, May 15, 1987_

El stared at the paper in her hands like if she glared hard enough, the thing would catch fire. Too bad that wasn’t an ability in her psychokinetic arsenal. She made her way down the hall to her locker and twisted the combination lock until the door swung open, empty boxes of Eggo waffles she had hoarded spewing out onto the floor.

“Fuck,” she grumbled under her breath and went to work picking them up. She had been meaning to get rid of those. Just then, the bell marking the end of third period rang, causing El to curse again. The hall was quickly flooding with students eager to eat their lunch and her Eggo boxes still littered the floor. She could hear laughter to her right and glanced up to see Stacey Albright and her friends standing just a ways away, giggling and whispering as they openly watched her fumble with the boxes. El scowled. How she wished she could use her powers to cause some form of light misfortune to befall those girls, but Hopper had made her promise that she would keep a low cover now that she was out and about in the world. El was about to return to the task when she heard another voice coming from her left side.

“Mind if I help you?”

She looked up to see a familiar face bending over one of her boxes to pick it up. It was a boy with whom she shared English literature, if she remembered correctly. His bronze face was framed by soft black tresses which ended in a slight curl. His features indicated his Mexican origins, or so she assumed (El still wasn’t very good at identifying race). The boy’s playful dark eyes seemed to be smiling at her as much as his lips were when he parted them to ask her a question. “So, you uh, like Eggos?”

El nodded, finally picking up the last box and taking the bunch in her arms to the garbage can. “Yeah.”

“So do I,” the boy chuckled awkwardly, discarding his own bunch into the trash after her. He held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Enrique, by the way.”

“E-” she was about to say her old name by accident – the one that only her closest allies called her – but she adjusted herself just in time before taking his hand. “Jane.”

“Cool,” Enrique smiled again to mask the butterflies in his stomach. “Well, it’s nice to actually meet you, Jane.”

“We have English lit together,” El stated in that plain sort of way that she used when stating a simple fact.

“Well yeah,” Enrique admitted. “But this is the first time we’ve gotten to talk, you know?”

That was when El noticed despite herself how pleasant Enrique’s face was to look at. She could not see behind her, but Stacey Albright was fuming as she and her friends turned and left for the cafeteria. Enrique stood there before her, looking as if he wanted to say something else, but he couldn’t quite get it out. She couldn’t understand why he seemed to be having to much trouble but then it was suddenly incredibly difficult for her to speak too.

“So um,” he started finally.

Just as soon as she noticed that he was still holding her hand, El could hear Lucas and Dustin’s voices getting louder as they and the rest of the party made their way down the hall. El pulled her hand back at the thought of Mike seeing her there, staring at Enrique’s pretty face for far too long. As if he could sense his opportunity slipping, the boy’s mind raced for something else to say.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to study together sometime?” he blurted out, and just as soon as he did, he realized how weird that was to ask if he had supposedly just met her then. “Sorry, what I mean to say is–”

Eleven shifted stiffly and let out a surprised little gasp when she felt an arm over her shoulders. She looked up to see Mike seeming to be coming in for a kiss.

“Hey,” he said, greeting her with a peck on the lips. The kiss was longer than one might expect for a simple salutation and he held her slightly closer than usual. Enrique deflated a little despite the fact that he was still smiling.

When Mike finally broke from her, El couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Hey there,” she giggled.

As their friends gathered around them (Dustin and Lucas continuing to have their argument revolving around the ranking of the _Star Wars_ movies), El noticed a group of boys just a little further down the hall from them.

“Hey, Enrique!” called the one she recognized as Greg McCorkle. Enrique turned at the sound of his name being called. Some of the teenage boys were just monkeying around, pushing each other about and laughing about one thing or another, while three of them were looking at him expectantly

“Come on, man, let’s go!” one of them said impatiently.

The bronze-skinned boy turned back to El and waved as he made his getaway, Mike’s sharpened eyes following his every step. “See you tomorrow, Jane!”

Will tried to come between Dustin and Lucas (at least they could all agree on where _The Empire Strikes Back_ placed on the list) while Max’s eyes darted between Enrique’s retreating back and her other two friends. She had noticed the new boy stealing glances at El in English class and didn’t think too much of it. Sure, Max would tease El about it sometimes when the boys weren’t around (after all, Enrique _was_ a cutie) but El was dating Mike so there really wasn’t much to else to discuss. The boisterous personality that Enrique displayed toward other boys tended to evaporate when it came to the telekinetic girl so Max figured that his interest in her friend would only amount to staring longingly at her back from a few seats over, but now he had taken it upon himself to talk to her outside of class. Max looked at Mike who was returning to the group with El’s hand in his. He seemed just as chipper as he always was around lunchtime, but the way he went out of his way to be more affectionate than usual told Max that she wasn’t the only one who had noticed something strange.

By the time the friends had finally gotten to the lunch table after shuffling through the lunchtime lineup, the _Star Wars_ argument had subsided and the group had secured an area that was mostly secluded from their peers at one lunch table in the northeast corner. They did this deliberately; sometimes to avoid students wishing to harass them (although this happened less often when they were together like this), sometimes just to be able to express themselves and their interests without the judgment of others, but it was mostly a subconscious effort to make their space a little safer. Life was peaceful for the most part, but like most who have undergone a traumatic experience, none in the group was without their scars. It was therapeutic to them to be able to confide in each other, so the friends went out of their way to create little spaces where they could do so uninterrupted. Mike’s basement was the original hub, so to speak, with the now Byers-Hopper residence acting as a secondary headquarters, but there were other places as well. Any uninhabited area on the Hawkins High campus would do in a pinch and certain forested areas still felt safe in the daytime at least (after all, even though so much had happened there, it was where these kids spent a lot of time growing up). Really any place where her friends were seemed like a good place for El to be honest about anything, including the mysterious girl in her dreams.

“I’m going to try contacting her tonight,” El announced to the group in a low whisper.

“Do you even know who she is?” asked Lucas, still a little confused about the situation.

El shook her head.

“I thought you had to know who the person was in order to reach them,” remarked Dustin.

“Not exactly,” El continued, remembering when she had made contact with the woman who ended up being her mother. “I just need a clear picture of them in my mind.”

“But you’ve never actually seen her face,” said Lucas, Max deep in thought beside him.

El deflated a bit. She knew it was a long shot, but she felt she had to try something. “I know.”

“Well, do you want to try it at my place?” Mike asked, squeezing her shoulder in his hand. “If anything happens, we’ll all be there at least.”

The girl smiled warmly at her boyfriend and nodded. Her life had never been easy, but she considered herself lucky to have somehow found people who genuinely cared for her safety and happiness.

* * *

_Sunday, May 17, 1987_

Robin threw her hands up above her head and gave a triumphant shout as the pins each fell on their sides at the end of the lane. She turned back to her companions as Steve tallied up the points. So far, Robin was winning (by a mile), Steve was coming in second, Jonathan took up third (he and his family rarely went to places like the bowling alley), and poor Samantha was sitting pretty in last place. Despite this, she still applauded her date and slid out of her seat to go next.

“Oh, strike!” hollered Steve.

“Watch out, guys!” Samantha laughed as Robin approached, taking a very light-hearted perspective on her definite loss. She was still having fun and that was all that mattered. “I’ve got a gutter ball with my name on it.”

“Hey, come on,” the blonde responded, taking Sam by her hands. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Samantha grabbed a red ball from the queue and took her position, Robin giving her a few pointers on her stance and situating herself a little closer than just a friendly distance away. Even without doing anything that could be rated any higher than PG, she managed to be surprisingly flirty, perhaps without even trying, and Samantha was revelling in the attention. Jonathan sat back with Steve, the air between them slightly tense, but he was happy enough that his friend was enjoying herself and to be honest, he was having a little bit of fun too. As _We Built This City_ played on the stereo, he absently drummed his fingers on the table, something Jonathan often did when idle. Steve shifted awkwardly, occasionally glancing at Jonathan’s restless hands. He couldn’t take it. He was an extrovert and silence made him nervous. He had to try to break the ice.

“So uh,” Steve started. “You play the drums?”

“Hm?” Jonathan hummed.

“The drums,” said Steve and then he pointed at Jonathan’s fingers. “I noticed you’re uh...”

“Oh, no,” the other man explained. Learning how to play was an idea that had crossed his mind once or twice, but he didn’t even want to think of how expensive a full drum set would have been. “No, I don’t. I just... do this. Sometimes.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve nodded slowly. “Cool...”

The ice was much thicker than Steve had thought.

Once the group was finished with their game, the women wanted to walk down Main Street and the men hesitantly obliged. The date had been going so well for their friends that neither of them had the heart to cut it short. They would just have to stew in each other’s presence until the end of the night. The men kept their distance behind the couple to give them some space and only a comment or two about random things passed between them; _'there’s that new tea place'_ this and _'hey, watch your step'_ that. It wasn’t until they noticed the two women had stopped that either of them really started speaking again.

“What’s up?” asked Steve and he looked in the direction that Robin and Samantha were looking in. Jonathan looked up too and saw big neon lights over a shop window giving a view inside of a bright and colourfully lit bar. The loud music could be heard over the silence of the night air and there was an overall jovial feeling which came from the refurbished two-story building. Two rather intoxicated looking men were doing a duet at the karaoke machine in the corner while the other patrons cheered and sang along, a surprisingly captive audience for the two amateur singers. Or maybe they were just wasted.

“ _Yoshi’s Karaoke_ ,” Steve read, eyebrows high on his face.

“Guys, let’s go in!” Samantha suggested, nearly jumping with excitement. Her enthusiasm was worlds away from the nervousness she’d felt at the beginning of the evening, Jonathan noticed happily. Arm in arm, she pulled the blonde woman in after her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Robin protested, but she was putting up a rather weak fight against her date.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

Before the group knew it, Samantha had successfully secured one of the private rooms in the back of the establishment, complete with its own disco ball, karaoke machine and a waiter who would pop in periodically. She wasn’t opposed to paying for most of this surprise outing herself. Jonathan excused himself to the rest room while the others got seated and when he came back, they had already ordered a round of drinks, a tall glass of decorated iced tea sitting on the table in front of the spare seat which Jonathan presumed was for him. Samantha was perusing the playlist and trying to convince either Robin or Steve to sing with her when Jonathan sat down.

“How about some Queen?” she asked, pointing somewhere on the selection list. “They’ve got _We Will Rock You_. We should all be able to sing along to that!”

“I wouldn’t mind some Queen,” Steve shrugged, sipping on a cold glass of Corona.

“Robin, come with me!” Samantha urged, taking her date’s hand.

Robin looked a little shy, something Jonathan didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “You know, Sam, I would love to but I really can’t sing.”

Samantha grinned and leaned in close. “Then I’ll teach you, just like how you taught me to bowl.”

The blonde paused for a moment, considering the offer. Steve leaned forward slightly and then began banging his hands on the table and chanting, “Do it, do it!”

He progressively got louder and looked to Jonathan for help. The other man didn’t beat the table, but he did chant along quietly. Robin laughed at them both before conceding.

“Fine! I’ll do it, ya knuckleheads.”

Samantha took Robin’s hand and bounced away to input the song. As it turned out, Sam was a very good singer and Robin, being more of a novice, opted to make up for it by acting more like Freddie Mercury rather than singing. Her date danced along with her and Steve cheered from the side while Jonathan gulped his iced tea. He figured that during that outing, he would be doing a lot of sidelines support. They couldn’t have had music he actually listened to on that playlist, plus the idea of having to get up and sing for everyone just sounded way too embarrassing.

As the night went on, Robin, Steve, and Sam had all had their turn singing. Robin ordered everyone a round of shots and Jonathan, not wanting to come off like a wet blanket, downed two in a row, much to the amazement of the group. He inhaled deeply and shook his head, the alcohol stinging his throat as it sank down into his stomach. Clearly, he’d underestimated its power, so Jonathan retreated back to the comfort of a second cold iced tea.

“Yeah, boy!” cheered Samantha.

“Damn, dude!” Steve laughed, feeling a little more comfortable about Jonathan now that he was beginning to loosen up. “Just chuggin’ it back!”

The dark haired man made a face at the burning sensation in his core and brought the tea to his lips again. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

The other table members laughed.

“Hitcha harder than you thought it would?” Robin asked.

“Ah, fuck,” Jonathan cursed, then chuckled. “I don’t even really drink like that.”

“No problem, man,” said Samantha, patting his back. “I’m driving. You have fun!”

“I’m just a little tipsy,” her friend shrugged. Actually, he didn’t feel all that different from when they’d first started the night.

“Bro, you’ve had like two of those iced teas and you just said you don’t really drink,” replied Robin. “Meaning that I doubt you have a high tolerance at all.”

Jonathan’s brows furrowed. “Wait, do these have alcohol in them?”

Robin nodded slowly, a grin still on her face. “Yeah. Did you not know that it was a Long Island Iced Tea?”

“No...”

“Oh shit,” said Steve, looking at Robin and Sam. “We must have forgotten to tell him.”

“Sorry, Jon!” Sam said, looking apologetic. “I thought you knew for some reason. I must have just gotten too excited with karaoke to tell you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jonathan assured the group. “I don’t even feel that drunk.”

“You sure?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, giving her a comforting smile. “Anyway, I’ll be back. I’m gonna go to the washroom.”

Then as Jonathan got up, it suddenly hit him. He paused for a while until the Earth stopped moving beneath him, his hand still holding onto the table to keep him steady. “ _Oh_.”

“What?” asked Steve.

“ _Shit_.”

“You just got it, didn’t you?” asked Robin, trying not to laugh at his slight sway.

Jonathan nodded a little too quickly. The world was still spinning slowly.

“Steve, do you maybe wanna, uh,” Robin began to inquire, jerking her head in Jonathan’s direction.

Steve suddenly looked a little uncomfortable, unsure about what she might be implying. “Do I wanna what?”

“Just like, help him walk to the bathroom?” she asked.

“I _would_ do it,” Samantha jumped in. “But you know,” she shrugged. “I’m a woman, so...”

Steve’s shoulders dropped. Jonathan was too busy trying to stand still to pay too much attention to what they were saying. With a sigh, Steve stood up and got beside the unsteady man.

“Alright, buddy,” he said as he swung one of Jonathan’s arms over his shoulders. “I’ll take you there, but I am _not_ holding your dick for you.”

“The fuck?” Jonathan asked, not fully understanding what was going on. The alcoholic haze was just starting to fall over him, but he soon wouldn’t be the only one.

Before long, all four of them were considerably more jolly than they had been. Samantha and Robin kept their drinking to a minimum since they were each designated drivers, but Steve was having the time of his life dancing around in his cheap sunglasses and belting out “Whoa, livin’ on a prayer!” as loud as he could. Jonathan was on his fourth or fifth iced tea (turns out he’s highly suggestible while drunk and Samantha said she would buy him as many as he wanted as long as he would perform at some point). He couldn’t believe how good of a time he was having watching the others’ antics and clapping along to their progressively more terrible sounding singing. While Sam and Robin cheered the wannabe vocalist on beside him, Jonathan suddenly found it incredibly hilarious how Steve was carrying on, nearly stumbling over himself while slurring out Bon Jovi and trying to look like a glam metal rock star. It was so funny, in fact, that it made him laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more. And snort. He couldn’t stop himself from snorting every time he managed to inhale between howls and the whole room began to notice. And that only made his laughter raise in pitch, thus making the snorting worse.

“Oh my God!!” cried Robin, pointing at Jonathan in his giggle fit. “You _snort_ when you laugh!”

Normally, Jonathan would have been embarrassed by this revelation. It was something about him that only Nancy and his family knew: when you manage to get Jonathan into a fit of giggles, he snorts uncontrollably. Nancy thought it was adorable and would take every opportunity to send him into hysterics on purpose (tickling his ribs worked if jokes wouldn’t), but besides that small group, he tried not to do it in front of anyone else. However as he sat there, the tips of his ears, cheeks and nose turning red, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, laughter made effervescent by Long Island Iced Teas bubbling out of his chest, and Steve doing some weird pelvic thrusts during an instrumental portion of the song (which he definitely did just to get Jonathan going), he just didn’t care as much as he normally would. His only form of protest was to clasp his hand over his mouth in a feeble attempt to stop the noise from coming out, but it barely made a difference and now his companions were laughing right along with him. Steve could barely even finish the key change without sputtering into hysterics. When the music ended, the audience of three was applauding, hooting and hollering “ _E_ _ncore_!” while Steve tried not to sway too much giving a bow.

“Thank you, thank you!” he called to them. “Thank you, Hawkins! You’re too kind!”

“Jon!” Sam called out and touched her friend’s arm across the table. “You gotta sing for us!”

“Whaaa?” he slurred, letting his head fall back onto the tip of his seat and his hair fall messily about his face as his chuckling finally began to subside. “No, c’mooon.”

“You promised,” she grinned, slyly handing him the song selection.

“You _did_ say you would,” Robin added with a wink.

Jonathan groaned in response and perused the menu, then seemed surprised. “Oh shit, they got tha Clash!”

Steve jumped off the stage and was suddenly beside him, a surprisingly agile feat for someone who was just trying not to fall down while dancing. “Holy fuck, I didn’t know they had the Clash!”

For a second time, Jonathan was surprised. “You listen to ‘em?”

“Yeah, dude!” Steve replied. What Jonathan hadn’t known was that Steve actually got into the Clash in middle school around the same time he did, but unlike him, Steve was always very conscious of his image and thus, he kept many of his interests secret unless they coincided with the current trends. But now that he was an adult, being considered cool by his peers just wasn’t that important anymore. Without hesitation, Steve pointed at an entry in the selection. “Bro, do this one with me.”

Sam sat back with her arm around Robin’s shoulders while the two men stumbled up onto the stage and punched the numbers into the karaoke machine. If someone had told her beforehand that loner Jonathan Byers and King Steve Harrington from high school would have ended that night drunkenly wrapping an arm over each other’s shoulders for stability and shouting _Rock the Casbah_ into microphones, she would have told them to stop huffing paint. But somehow, that was exactly what happened. Metaphorically, the ice had finally melted and all it took was a little too much alcohol in the blood.

Later, the four of them were back on Main Street, the women trying to keep the men from tripping over their own feet while they just kept on singing the Clash and erupting into laughter.

“Alright boys,” Robin sighed, dragging Steve down the street, who was still wearing his shades even though it was nighttime. “Both of you need a long nap.”

“Yup,” Sam agreed as she pulled Jonathan away from a pole he’d started drumming the beat of _Straight to Hell_ on while muttering the lyrics. “I hope Nancy doesn’t kill us both.”

When they finally reached entrance 5, the ladies exchanged numbers, shared a sweet goodnight kiss (to which Steve hooted in support like the bro he was while Jonathan opted for applause instead), and went their separate ways across the parking lot, stuffing their friends into each of their respective cars to make the journey home. As Sam made her way back down Horton Park Avenue, Jonathan had become incredibly chatty beside her.

“Sam,” he called even though she was right beside him. “Sam. Saaaam.”

“What?” his friend chuckled slightly.

“D’ya think if I asked Nancy to marry me, she’d say yes?” Jonathan slurred. “I think she would but maybe nah...”

“I mean, I would assume so? But I don’t know.”

“Can you ask ‘er for me? And then, if she says yes, then you tell me and then I’ll propose and you can be the...” the drunken man paused to think. “Whassit called? The maid of something... The Iron Maiden... Made of Iron... You can be the iron maiden, Sam.”

“I’m not gonna ask Nancy to marry you,” Samantha laughed and shook her head at his silly plan. “And you’re not either – not while you’re drunk like this. Who wants a drunk guy proposing to them?”

“Aw, dammit!” the young man lamented, covering his face with his hands. “Why’d I get so wasted?”

“I think you need a nap.”

* * *

Nancy breathed in deeply, letting the air out slowly in an attempt to calm herself. She could do this. She was completely capable. She had overcome far worse in the past. She shot firecrackers at a giant otherworldly spider monster for Christ’s sake! All she had to do was tell Jonathan the truth. It really couldn’t be that difficult. Nancy stared into the bedroom mirror as she recited her planned confession once again in her head. She held the Planned Parenthood brochure in one shaking hand and tried not to think about the horrible consequences of what should happen if they disagree on their next course of action. _Whatever happens tonight, you can handle it,_ she thought. Nancy closed her eyes, trying to think of the huge bowl of tapioca pudding she would make for herself if all went well when she heard the familiar jingle of Jonathan’s keys at the door. With one last look a herself in the mirror, she whispered “Showtime,” and made her way down the hall, trying to look as casual as she could.

“Hey, babe, how was the d-”

When Nancy finally made it to the doorway, she was expecting a few things. She was expecting Jonathan to be there, and of course he was, but she thought she would catch him taking off his coat to put on the rack before approaching to greet her with a soft peck on the lips as he always did (he was more gentle with his kisses than some of her previous boyfriends). She thought he might be a little tired from his excursion as he was an introvert and sometimes flexing his underused social muscles left him without a whole lot of energy left. She figured he would want to take a warm shower before joining her on the couch, embracing her in his arms and resting his head on her shoulder as he often did, barely staying awake after about 5 minutes, and somewhere during that time, Nancy would pluck up the courage to finally tell him just like she’d rehearsed in the mirror. When she rounded that corner and saw her boyfriend being partially propped up by Samantha, she knew things weren’t about to go exactly according to plan.

“Hey, Nancy,” Sam said, sounding a little bit guilty for bringing Jonathan home like this.

“Jonathan?” she called in slight disbelief at his state.

The aforementioned man looked up from his clumsily discarded shoes and a big, childish grin overtook his features. It was a look she remembered Dustin giving her a lot back when he had a crush on her: the almost glittering gaze of a young boy regarding an older girl with a mix of limerence and awe. “Oh my God, Nancy!” he exclaimed, seeming pleasantly surprised that she was standing in front of him in an apartment they both inhabited.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“Whaaa?” Jonathan immediately looked at Sam as if he’d been betrayed. “Sam! Didjou tell Nancy I got drunk?!” And then he whispered loudly, “I toldja not to tell her!”

“Oh, it’s obvious, you big dope,” replied Samantha, rolling her eyes.

Nancy sighed. “You’ve got work tomorrow. You’re gonna be so hungover...”

Realization flooded Sam’s features and then guilt. “Oh shit! That’s right, it’s Monday! Ugh, now I feel bad. We were just having too much fun.”

“It’s alright, Sam,” Nancy flashed her a smile. “Sounds like your date went well.”

Samantha smiled bashfully. “I’ll call you and tell you all about it. I gotta get home now.”

The couple said their goodbyes to their friend, Nancy turned to her boyfriend, who seemed to have regained his balance somewhat.

“What am I gonna do with you?” she sighed, her arms folded over her chest as she shook her head at him.

“Are you mad?” he asked innocently in a way that made her heart swell.

“No, I’m not mad.” How could she be when he was flashing her those brown puppy dog eyes?

His smile returned as he made his way over to her and pulled her into a tight hug. Nancy smiled and let her arms rest over his shoulders, noting with some amusement that even though he’d been out that night, he still smelled good like the eucalyptus mint cologne he liked buying when the budget allowed. In high school, Jonathan never had the trendiest or newest looking clothes and sometimes it was more obvious than others that he cut his own hair (with Joyce’s help), but one thing she couldn’t help but notice about him back then was that he was always so clean. She was so used to the jocks she’d had crushes on and the way they smelled just after practice that Jonathan’s scent seemed to stand out (although she would have never admitted that to anyone at the time). Once, when they were standing in line to get into the cafeteria, Barb had noticed her sneaking a whiff and just gave Nancy a knowing look when she realized she’d been caught. Looking back, Nancy thought Barb had a feeling that Jonathan was more than what everyone assumed he was and that the two of them could potentially make a good couple (God rest her soul).

Nancy stood there in Jonathan’s arms, enjoying the feeling of his body against hers, until a sudden movement toward her neck followed by a trail of slightly sloppier kisses than usual made her breath hitch involuntarily. Jonathan hummed against her as his hands moved down her back to cup her little butt, squeezing gently. Nancy giggled at him.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she asked with fake indignation, unable to stop herself from smiling.

“Babe, take your clothes off,” her boyfriend whispered, the alcohol left in his system making him far less subtle than usual.

Still smiling, she gently began to push him off of her. Nancy still wasn’t sure how she could maneuver this situation back to what she had planned on, but she was definitely going to try. She didn’t like the idea of having sex with him while he was intoxicated anyway. “Babe, come on...”

“Wait,” he said, suddenly stepping away from her. “No.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Come with me,” he requested with a lopsided grin.

“Get outta here, Jonathan!” commanded Nancy playfully, slapping his shoulder.

“Okay.” And with that, he turned on his heels and made a beeline for the washroom. Once she heard the bathroom door close, the short haired woman collapsed on the sofa, part of her trying to figure out her next course of action and the other trying to convince the first to call off the mission and try again tomorrow. The tapioca pudding she’d planned on eating before bed was going to taste so good if she could finally get this pregnancy announcement over with, but was he even in the state of mind to be able to process this information? Nancy rubbed her temples in frustration and continued to argue with herself.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Nancy, Jonathan was reaching a high enough point of clarity that he realized the plastic bottle of his preferred body wash was empty. No matter, he knew where he could find more. Not wanting to use his girlfriend’s soap (the floral scents that smelled heavenly on her just didn’t suit him), Jonathan crouched down and opened the cabinet under the sink. It was so full of things like extra things like rolls of toilet paper and cleaning supplies that he couldn’t locate his product right away. Jonathan’s eyes darted around the organized chaos until they settled on an unopened box of condoms he didn’t even remember where there. Chuckling a little to himself, he picked up the box to take a look at it. It had been a long time since he’d worn one of those. Ever since Nancy had gone on the pill, the pair really didn’t have any need for condoms anymore. It would be a shame if a perfectly good box went to waste, however. He had been raised to avoid throwing out anything that was still good and the condoms were well within date. Briefly, Jonathan considered handing them to El since he knew for a fact that she and Mike had discussed taking their relationship to that level (she didn’t bother admitting to him that they had already been experimenting, but that much was obvious from the way she suddenly became bashful at certain points in the conversation). Hopper was still adjusting to the idea (with Joyce’s help), but Jonathan, being the big brother figure he was, knew that you couldn’t stop raging teenage hormones, so why not just guide them in the right direction so they don’t make mistakes in secret? He laughed to himself again. He was starting to sound like his mother.

Just then, Jonathan saw something in the cabinet that he didn’t recognize. He put the box of condoms down beside him and picked up a little white stick he was sure hadn’t been there before. Did it belong to Nancy? What even was it? Standing up, he twisted the thing around in his hand to get a better look at it. It almost looked like a digital thermometer but the part that would normally take your temperature was a lot thicker and flatter. He looked at the little circular screen, two red lines staring back at him as the sober part of his brain tried to push the still intoxicated portion out of the way so it could identify what the strange thing was. His mind moved through his memory banks, past his vast catalogue of rock band discography and over his database of English literature into the somewhat dusty memory of high school sex ed (which wasn’t substantial at all). Jonathan could still envision himself sitting at his desk, glancing at the clock time and again while his sweaty, uncomfortable gym teacher droned on about abstinence or HIV or something, a younger Steve and Tommy goofing off in the back when Coach Hamilton’s back was turned. He remembered one of these things being passed around the segregated boys-only class, the other teenage boys barely able to contain their immaturity while Jonathan had only really taken a glance at it before giving it to a classmate, but what was it?

Suddenly, it came to him. _A pregnancy test!_ Jonathan smiled, the drunk part of his brain taking over momentarily to congratulate himself for being smart enough to remember.

Before he had time to celebrate any longer, the sober half of his brain slapped the drunk one back into reality. Why did Nancy have a seemingly used pregnancy test?

Nancy was just skimming through channels when the washroom door suddenly burst open and her boyfriend ran out, without his shirt but still wearing his pants from Samantha’s date and nearly tripping over himself while his clear mind battled with his body, still a little clumsy from the alcohol.

“NANCY!” he called out, nearly hyperventilating.

The aforementioned young woman nearly jumped out of his t-shirt (she liked to wear them around the apartment) and held her heart in her chest to stop it from beating so hard. “Jonathan! What?!”

That was when she saw what he was holding in his hand and her heart sunk.

“Nancy,” Jonathan breathed. “Are you pregnant?”

 _Shit._ This was not how she wanted to tell him, but she had no choice now. Nancy attempted to collect herself a little before responding, trying and failing to remember even part of the script she had laid out for the reveal. “I... Y-yes?”

Without warning, Nancy was suddenly swept up into Jonathan’s arms and he was swaying slightly (although not because of the alcohol) while he held her tightly. All of the anxiety, all of the things she had been worrying about for the past few days were washed away in an instant and Nancy wrapped her thin arms around his body in return, the urge to have him near her becoming too strong for her to bear. Before long, she could feel him begin to shake and when he pulled back, he took her face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together, tears flowing freely from his eyes. Through smiling lips, he just kept whispering his love for her, drawing happy tears from her eyes too. In an instant, nothing else felt like it mattered: her now useless plans for confessing, the crack in the bathroom wall that the landlord was ignoring, all of the stress and secret tears she had shed at night while he was asleep and her worried tormented her... Witnessing Jonathan’s overwhelming joy in that moment let Nancy give herself permission to finally feel the glee she had been neglecting all this time. It lifted her from where she stood and made all of her fantasies about him being a terrific father to their child spill from her lips and float between them like a wonderful spell. Their kisses were salty as they were both happily weeping, but that didn’t matter either. All that mattered in the world was right there: the euphoria between the two of them (soon to be three).

* * *

A/N: In the spirit of quarantine, let me just take this time to tell you guys to stay safe out there. I know that things might feel completely out of your control right now and staying away from your loved ones is hard, but please know there are resources out there if you need help... I’ll be taking advantage of those too most likely. lol Stay safe and I’ll see you in chapter 4!


	4. So Damn Lucky

**A/N:** Hey guys! I’ve been trudging along slowly and trying to better manage my anxiety recently, but I’ve finally gotten around to finishing chapter 4. :) I kind surprised myself because even though I do have an outline for the whole story, I felt stuck on this chapter when I was writing the little details. Then one day, I had the document for this chapter open, an idea struck me and then I just couldn’t stop writing until I finished! It actually caused me to change my process a little... Instead of trying to write linearly, I’m just going to start wherever my imagination takes me and tweak it to make sense afterwards.

Speaking of change, I’ve also been making some slight changes to my outline for how the rest of this story is going to go so hopefully those changes make it more enjoyable! I added a few more plot elements and made changes that should make it flow better (also, I’m learning so much about pregnancy LOL). Hopefully, you’ll see what I mean later. ;)

So for the update schedule... Life for me is still pretty chaotic, so here’s what I’ll do: I’m going to aim for weekly updates, but if I have to take a little longer, I’m not going to beat myself up over it. I’m going to keep it at a leisurely pace and just enjoy the process instead of making everything so serious.

I’ve updated this story’s description a little bit. I don’t want to spoil anything, but I suggest you look over the description again just to make sure you’re okay with reading what’s described.

One other thing is that I’m still taking suggestions for the sex and name of the Jancy baby, so if you haven’t already given your opinion, I’d love to know. I’m liking a lot of the ideas I’m seeing so far!

And I think that’s about it for updates, so without further ado, here's chapter 4!

* * *

_Friday, May 15, 1987_

El let out a frustrated little grunt as she nearly tore the folded bandana off of her face. Her friends sat quietly in a semicircle around her, staring expectantly and then looking to each other in response to El’s outburst.

“Still?” inquired Max, her scarlet eyebrows tilted upward in a concerned expression while Will shut the radio static off.

The psychic brunette stared at Mike’s blue paisley bandana in her hands as if it were the cause of her troubles. She couldn’t remember being this disappointed with her powers since she had temporarily lost them a few years ago. No matter how hard El tried, she just could not locate the strange girl in the Hawkins Laboratory gown. She couldn’t even picture her face in her mind’s eye, but how could that be? El had assumed that she had come into contact with all of the children held captive by the man she called Papa for so many years, but nothing about this girl was even faintly familiar to her. And if El couldn’t even make out the young woman’s face, she would never be able to find her.

“Look,” Mike said finally, scooting closer to his girlfriend to wipe away the blood on her lip with a tissue. “Maybe we should stop for tonight.”

“El?” Max asked, lowering her head a little to get a look at the other girl’s face. “What do you think?”

El let out a little sigh, looking up at her friends and playing with the bandana in her hands. “I’m tired. I think taking a break might be a good idea.”

Just then, the doorbell rang, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

“Just in time!” Dustin grinned, quickly standing up and grabbing the money Karen Wheeler had left behind for her son and his friends while she took Holly to a friend’s birthday party.

As the other boy ran to the first floor of the house, Mike followed quickly, chucking the bloodied tissue in the garbage before climbing the stairs. “Hey! Dustin, it’s _my_ house. I’ll get it!”

Mike flew after his friend and was so busy trying to beat the other teen to the door that he didn’t see Dustin stop at the opening to the living room until he’d bumped into him and landed on the floor. Some time during the summer between 9th and 10th grade, Dustin had undergone a huge growth spurt and became much huskier than he was as a child. He even started having to shave his new, wispy little moustache much to Mike and Will’s jealous dismay (Lucas had managed the most developed facial hair of the party already which he liked to wear as stubble to impress Max while Will was lucky enough just to notice a hair or two on his chin). In truth, all of the teens were growing. Mike had become much taller too, but his lanky body was no match for Dustin’s sturdy form and so when he crashed into him, Dustin barely even flinched while Mike was knocked right off his feet. Steve had suggested football to Dustin before, but he just wasn’t all that interested. He could have made a great quarterback if he weren’t more focused on video games and fantasy adventures than running around after a ball.

Groaning, Mike picked himself off the floor while Dustin continued to stare into the living room.

“Ugh, damnit, Dustin,” the dark-haired boy complained, rubbing the sore spot on his hip where he fell. “You’re built like a goddamn brick, man.”

“Hey,” Dustin finally responded and used his chin to point to the television. There was a look on his face that implied he was cautiously scrutinizing what was in front of him. “Ya think that stuff is... _real_?”

Mike finally looked into the darkened room illuminated only by the TV. Ted Wheeler slept in his La-Z-Boy recliner snoring softly while the sound of the program filled the silence. On the television, there was an elaborately dressed blonde woman who Mike vaguely recognized taking calls from the audience at home. While the caller rambled on about her recently deceased ex-lover, the TV host called Madame Clara listened intently and nodded every so often. On her face, an expression which made her look like she already knew all the answers before the caller finished her story showed through a layer of brightly coloured makeup.

“Before I knew it, he’d boarded the midnight train and never came back,” explained the woman on the phone. “And that was the last time I saw my dear Darryl. He was killed by another passenger on the train. I feel so lost without him. I just need to connect with him one last time.”

“Melissa, my dear,” Madame Clara responded immediately with her thick New York accent, already staring into the crystal ball in front of her. The charms on her sleeves raddled, making soft clanging noises as she moved her manicured hands around the sphere. “I do believe I see him. This is a young man with dark hair... Darling, was Darryl ever a member of the army? Or perhaps the navy?”

“Why, yes he was!”

“Okay, so I’m definitely getting a reading here...” The TV psychic inhaled deeply. “I’m seeing a silver or gold necklace... Something with a chain that looks like a necklace...”

“Yes, the gold chain he gave me for my birthday,” the caller named Melissa replied excitedly.

“He’s telling me that you need to be wearing that necklace on a regular basis,” Madame Clara continued. “You need to wear it all the time to ward off evil.”

“All the time?”

“ _All_ the time,” Clara confirmed, looking into the camera intently as if Melissa were in front of her. “Also, he’s telling me there’s a big decision you’ll have to make in the future.”

“Oh, that must be the move,” Melissa said. “I was considering moving to California but I’ve just never been sure about the timing...”

“Go for it, honey,” the psychic replied, trying to wrap up in anticipation for the next caller. “He’s telling me you need to go for it.”

“Thank you so much, Madame Clara!” exclaimed Melissa, her excitement at the prospect of finally allowing herself to move audible over the phone.

“Ya welcome, darling. Have a wonderful evening. Next caller...”

Mike squinted and one side of his mouth curled up in disbelief. “Dustin, you _believe_ that? That shit’s fake, man.”

“I don’t believe in it,” Dustin replied, exasperated at the way his friend’s tone made him feel gullible. “My mom watches this all the time and sometimes I just wonder. I never would have thought that El or the Upside Down or any of that sci-fi bullshit was real either, but look what the fuck happened.”

“El is nothing like Madame Clara,” Mike retorted defensively with a roll of his eyes. Ever since he first met El, from the time when she was still the mysterious girl hiding in his basement to the present, there was something about her that just made Mike want to protect her. Of course, being a powerful real psychic, she could handle herself just fine when it came to most types of physical or even supernatural danger, but El’s upbringing meant that she was at a social and emotional disadvantage. After he had finally learned that he need not protect his girlfriend from her own judgments of her abilities, harsh words and criticism were the things Mike still felt a compulsion to shield El from even in his older teens. Sometimes, his guard was misdirected.

“I’m not saying she is,” his friend replied. “Look, forget it. It was just an idea.”

“Whatever,” Mike sighed, taking the money out of Dustin’s hand and making his way toward the front door to meet the frustrated teen trying to deliver the pizzas they had ordered.

“Asshole,” Dustin muttered under his breath and followed after Mike to help with the boxes.

* * *

_Monday, May 18, 1987_

Jonathan winced and held the phone away from his face to protect his sensitive ears from his mother’s screaming. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear that Joyce was jumping in place and sobbing happily. She was so loud that Hopper had to come over from his place in the living room and make sure she was okay.

“Joyce!” he called, rounding the corner with a look of utter confusion at his girlfriend’s behaviour. “What in God’s name are you–”

“Hopper!” Joyce exclaimed, wiping tears off her face. “They’re having a baby! Oh my God, they’re having a baby!”

Hopper stared blankly, a little concerned for his girlfriend’s metal wellbeing. “... _Who_?”

With her freehand, Joyce gently slapped his arm in frustration with his daftness. “ _Jonathan and Nancy_! Hop! Nancy’s pregnant!”

Jonathan chuckled on the other line, able to hear every word between them even with the phone so far from his ear. The concern on Hopper’s face melted away and revealed pleasant surprise.

“Oh shit, congratulations!” Jonathan could hear Hopper say.

Then he heard his mother’s muffled sobbing, probably into her boyfriend’s chest. “Hopper, I’m gonna be a grandma!”

For a minute or so, Jonathan could only hear the sounds of shuffling and the older couple’s muted voices, too far away from the phone’s receiver for him to make out what they were saying. Suddenly, Hopper’s voice came through clearly.

“Hello?”

“Hopper?”

“Hey, kid,” his mother’s boyfriend said over the sound of distant voices in the back. “Your mom’s gone to tell your siblings. She’s running around like a madwoman, you know. She literally just dropped the damn phone and made a break for it. You should see it. Anyway, congrats!”

“Thanks,” Jonathan laughed, trying to picture Joyce scurrying about the house to tell anyone who would listen that her baby was having his own first baby.

“So, ‘bout to start your life as a dad, eh?” said Hopper, the swell in his chest almost audible over the phone. By the time he had began officially dating Joyce, Jonathan had already aged out of the need for a new father figure in his life. Hopper was able to earn the young man’s trust a lot faster than Joyce’s previous boyfriends given all he had done to prove his devotion to her and her little family, but Hopper had accepted that his relationship with Jonathan would just never be the same as that between him and Will or El. The younger kids were still growing up and needed Hopper’s guidance over hurdles that Jonathan had had to climb by himself while Joyce worked her ass off and Lonnie bummed around wherever he was. Regardless, Hopper had a special place in his heart for Jonathan seeing as he had been so kind to El in his brief absence and being able to watch Joyce’s oldest evolve into a father himself gave him a little bit of second-hand pride. “What’s it feel like?”

“Honestly? It’s surreal. Part of me still doesn’t believe it,” the younger soon-to-be-father responded, leaning his back against the wall with the phone to his ear.

“I remember that,” Hopper replied, swallowing the little bit of soreness he always felt when he thought about Sara and Diane, his first child and his ex-wife. “You’re never really going to believe it until you’re holding the kid in your arms.”

“I just hope I can do a good job.”

“You’ll be fine. I won’t lie to you, kid, you’ll wish the first month were a nightmare because that would mean you’d be getting some sleep, but after that, things get more routine and you–”

Suddenly, the background was filled with the sound of screaming, yelling, and loud footsteps threatening to trample Hopper where he stood. Jonathan could hear his mother’s boyfriend groan, _‘Here they come’_ , before the phone was grabbed from his hands and the sound of Will shouting his big brother’s name boomed through the receiver causing the future father to reel back again. It was at that time while the chaos that was Will, El and Joyce (plus Hopper good-natured attempts to reign them in a bit) rang over the phone that Nancy finally emerged from the bathroom, now taking even the smallest hint of her nausea as a warning sign that she should be near either a sink or toilet. It was for that reason that she had to excuse herself just as Jonathan was making the call, but she had returned just in time for El’s many questions about where the baby was, how long until they got there, whether they would be a boy or a girl, what was their name, and a slew of others. She still didn’t quite understand a lot about babies even after several explanations in the past, but the idea of being able to meet a newborn excited her.

It was a joyous evening that capped off quite a long day.

As Nancy had predicted the night before, Jonathan was indeed hungover when he woke up bright and early that morning. Normally, rolling out of bed with a headache and fatigue just to stuff camera equipment into his beat up old car and speed off to a destination so that he could run after Micah’s models would have been the recipe for a bad day, but that day was different. It was officially day one of fatherhood and it was going to be a good goddamn day even if Jonathan had to run on Tylenol, coffee and cheesy romantic fantasies to accomplish it. With the weight of her secret finally off her shoulders, Nancy also left the apartment with an unshakable glee that put a bounce in her step and made her unavoidable interactions with the office gossip more tolerable. She decided she wouldn’t tell anyone at work for another little while. Nancy was going to try her best to enjoy her pregnancy and the longer she could go without hearing anyone’s horror stories about the terrors of bearing children or dealing with people with boundary issues poking and prodding at her stomach without her permission or entertaining nosy coworkers asking about her and Jonathan’s future plans (it was bad enough when they realized the two of them were unmarried and cohabiting), the better. Still, the future was one thing the couple hadn’t gotten the chance to revisit until later that night after listening to Karen cry much like Joyce had, Mike and Holly celebrate becoming an uncle and an aunt respectively, and Ted stiffly acknowledge the announcement in the same way that he acknowledged everything (not to say that he wasn’t happy about it, because he definitely was).

That evening after he arrived home from work, Jonathan had been much more affectionate than usual, taking any chance he could to brush his fingertips along Nancy’s knuckles or gently push her bangs aside to kiss her forehead, and it was no different when they were finally sitting together in bed. Nancy was adjusting her little blue night gown which she had been able to fit into since high school, wondering when the day would come that it would be unable to accommodate her pregnant belly, when she noticed his dark brown eyes on her staring from underneath his fringe. Catching his gaze with her own, Nancy stared back quizzically, earning her a smile that made her feel warm in her centre like she had just downed a hot drink.

“What is it?” she asked, now smiling herself.

“Nothing, just...” he trailed off, his eyes fluttering from the red duvet and back to her as his smile grew. “I’m so damn lucky.”

Nancy didn’t know how to respond to that because the warm feeling in her core had risen up into her head and gently swept away all rational thought. It might have just been her hormones, but regardless, all Nancy could do was let her smile grow brighter, her blue eyes looking glassy as she scooted closer to her future child’s father and reached up to brush his fringe out of his face until her hand found a comfortable spot just over his ear. Jonathan let his head drop against hers until their noses brushed past each other and Nancy’s hand slid into the crook of his neck. She could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise at the contact (she knew exactly where he was sensitive) so she rubbed her thumb just underneath his jaw and coaxed a contented sigh from him. He leaned forward to caress her lips with his own and Nancy’s mind wandered back to when they had first hooked up in the guest bedroom of a reclusive private investigator’s house after he had essentially heckled them into confronting their feelings. That time wasn’t her sexual debut (hers had taken place about a year prior at the Harrington residence one night), but after burning through the determination it had taken for him to initiate their first kiss, Jonathan found himself with stage fright at the prospect of his own graduation out of virginity. That was when she had found this spot on his neck completely by accident, a spot that himself hadn’t even been aware of before then, and was pleasantly surprised when she caressed this place and his body melted against hers with a little whisper of her name. Nancy couldn’t stay in the past forever and her mind quickly returned to the present when his mouth seized her bottom lip causing her to let out a soft little yelp. It was far more intimate than a typical good night kiss, but it was still sweet and gentle. When they parted and their eyes opened, Jonathan gazed into her baby blues with the same heartfelt stare he had been giving her before. Then, he gently guided her body into a little spoon position against his, did a quick half-turn to switch off the lamp, and laid a soft kiss on her ear (one of _her_ sensitive spots) before laying his head on his pillow, one of his hands finding and playing with her hair.

“G’night, sweetheart,” Jonathan murmured behind her.

“Night, babe,” breathed Nancy in response, bringing his free hand up to kiss his knuckles before holding his arm tight around her midsection and tangling her fingers between his.

At that moment, with both their hands layered over her stomach, she remembered; they still hadn’t had any type of discussion about what they were going to do about this. They had been so caught up in the intoxicating bliss of it all that the topic never came up. _It’s okay_ , Nancy thought, snuggling against her boyfriend’s body and causing him to pull her tighter. She could feel him sigh into her hair, warm air brushing her shoulder and winding down her neck. _I’ll just bring it up in the morning._

... But that nagging thought refused to wait for the morning. Nancy shut her eyes tighter and shifted slightly as not to disturb Jonathan. She waited a minute before wriggling around again, suddenly unable to find a comfortable position. Jonathan blinked behind her and wondered briefly if she would feel more comfortable on her back. Perhaps he could just lay her head against his shoulder to keep them close or maybe she would prefer not to be held at all – that was fine too. Before long and with a frustrated little sigh, Nancy relented.

“Jon,” she muttered. “I can’t sleep.”

“You know what?” Jonathan asked after a brief pause. He sat up slightly and propped himself up on his elbow. “I actually needed to take a piss but I didn’t want to stop holding you.”

“We need to talk,” Nancy said and then gestured to her belly in the dark, a movement she knew he would be able to see with the moonlight that illuminated their bedroom. “About...”

After short silence, her boyfriend sat up all the way and turned to flick the light back on. Jonathan adjusted himself to face her and sat lotus style with his legs underneath the duvet. “I know. Just uh, lemme run to the washroom?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Nancy nodded, chuckling a little as she sat up in bed.

Her boyfriend scurried off to the bathroom and returned within minutes looking much more comfortable than when he left. Upon his return, he took a seat across from her and held her hands in his, still a bit damp from when he had washed them. They stared into each other’s eyes in silence, both unsure of where to start.

“So,” Nancy said, breaking the quiet. “We’re having a baby.”

“We’re gonna be parents,” Jonathan replied, nodding as if to affirm what he had just said.

Nancy nodded too, staring back into his brown eyes. “Yeah, but...”

“You’re worried,” Jonathan said softly, watching her movements carefully.

“Yes,” she replied, letting out the air she had been holding in. “Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” he admitted with a bit of a lopsided smile. “This means we have to figure out our savings, move out of here probably, stay in Hawkins a little longer than we thought...” he gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “But we’ll manage. We always do.”

His expression changed then and he straightened his back a little. Jonathan tried his best to seem calm, but she could see the internal panic bubbling in his eyes. Regardless, he chose his next few words wisely as not to place any kind of blame on her and give her a chance to be honest without feeling like she would anger him. “That is, assuming we both want to keep it...”

“I do,” Nancy said so quickly that it even surprised her.

Jonathan’s entire body loosened up and he was overcome with relief. “Oh thank God,” he chuckled. “Okay, so that’s out of the way. Is there anything else that’s bothering you?”

“Jonathan...” she started, suddenly unable to form the words. “College... I mean, babies are expensive. How can we afford to go to college, especially in New York?”

Even though Nancy knew her parents would make sure her education was covered, she still considered the matter of funding Jonathan’s education a problem for both of them to tackle. Their first pick was NYU of course, not just because Jonathan himself had always dreamed of attending, but because they also happened to have a top notch master’s program in journalism that Nancy had her eye on. Plus, if they both managed to enrol, they would be able to move out of the small town of Hawkins and into the big city. New York City. No more suburbs with seemingly no exits that instead only wind back into cul-de-sacs. No more picket fences like perfectly manicured barbed wire. No more expectations of the tidy little nuclear family that always either suffocated them (in Nancy’s case) or shamed their inability to achieve them (in Jonathan’s). New York just seemed like the perfect place for them to escape the small town conventions of Hawkins and start really living their lives. Notions of tradition and fitting into a mould were just not things that these two Gen Xers valued and they longed instead for the freedom to live without such bonds, but happy as they were to learn that they would soon be parents, a baby made those desires harder to fulfill – this was especially true for Jonathan’s dreams of university. Joyce had always meant to put a little aside for him ever since he had expressed interest at such a young age, but Lonnie always made himself an obstacle whether he was around to tell her that they had more pertinent things to worry about or gone and taking his financial contributions with him (what little child support he paid was _never_ reliable). The Byers’ were doing better now that Joyce had found better work as an investigator and Hopper was around to help their little blended family, but Jonathan could never ask his mother’s boyfriend to fund his education. At that point, it felt like a boundary that he shouldn’t try to breach. That left his and Nancy’s collective savings which would need to be put toward the baby first...

“We can put a little aside for it,” he told her, seemingly unfazed by the change in their plans. “We can take out a loan if we have to then pay it back after we graduate. Nance, I’ll go to community college if it comes to it.”

“Jon, _no_.” That was exactly what Nancy didn’t want. She didn’t want for him to have to sacrifice – not anymore. “You’ve worked hard your whole life. You shouldn’t have to settle anymore. You deserve to be happy.”

“ _Nancy_...” Jonathan squeezed her hands in his and lowered his head to look her directly in her eyes. “Listen to me: I _am_ happy. My mom isn’t lonely anymore and Hopper’s a great guy for her. She isn’t busting her ass at some retail job anymore and I love seeing her so happy. Will and El are growing up and adjusting well. They’re becoming more independent too. I don’t have to worry as much about them anymore. My job isn’t perfect right now, but I know I’ll get there some day. And you with your job too. On top of that, I get to see you every single day and,” he paused to gently touch her stomach with his fingertips in an attempt to reach the little one developing inside. “I have a family of my own now. I meant it before when I said I was lucky. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. If I have to change things a little to keep what’s really important, that’s not settling. Not if I can choose what’s important to me.”

“Babe...” whispered Nancy, the pregnancy hormones threatening an emotional response. It felt so good to hear him say those words.

Jonathan chuckled. “It’s funny. Of the two of us, I’m normally the one who worries about everything.”

“I know,” his girlfriend nodded. “I guess it’s my turn, huh?”

“Am I rubbing off on you?”

“Maybe. It’s okay though,” a grin crossed Nancy’s face. “I like when you rub on me.”

The young man snorted in response. “Pervert.”

The brunette wore a look of fake indignation and playfully slapped a mischievous-looking Jonathan’s arm before he reached out to begin to guide her back to being the little spoon. He held her tight to him and brushed her ear with his lips. “Now where were we?”

* * *

_Thursday, May 14, 1987_

She had already accepted that her life was over.

She could hardly even remember how it had happened. Somewhere between the trauma of witnessing her two children slaughtered like lambs and being beaten multiple times over the head, that memory must have been violently torn from her psyche. At some point that day, this man – this demon – had just shown up and ended her life as she knew it when he stole her family from her. She wanted for him to end her, to end _this_ , but instead he lingered. As she laid face-down on the floor, too weak and too sore to move, she could sense the smell of tobacco around her while Bach’s _Air on the G String_ stung her ears. The motherfucker was indulging in a cigarette while he enjoyed her expensive stereo system, his legs crossed languidly as he sank into the sofa. The man let out a big puff of air, smoke billowing toward the ceiling like white spectres from forgotten remains. He let out a dark little chuckle as strings and clavier flowed and rippled into the atmosphere.

“You people disgust me, you know that?” he said, taking another long drag off his cigarette. “But I’ll give you one thing, uh,” he paused and said his next two words with palpable condescension. “‘ _Mila Parkinson’_ : You’re at least decent enough to have excellent taste in music.”

The woman – Mila – only respirated feebly in response.

The man carelessly regarded the tobacco stick between his fingers, memories returning to his mind with the tranquility of a man who did not in fact have the bodies of a 7 year-old and a 5 year-old splayed out behind him. The man shut his eyes as the music began to swell and let his mind drift far away to a much happier place. He could almost taste the sunshine, brilliant and citric. Salty sea air was flavoured with the spray of the infinite blue waves. Her hair was glittering, her smile warm, and her laughter infectious. Jessica. It had been so long since he had last been able to hold his darling in his arms. She smelled of lavender perfume, sweat, sand and carefree bliss that day. That was how he wanted her to remain forever.

“She loved this movement so much,” he sighed contentedly, living mostly in his mind and only partially in reality. “Could you believe she wanted to play this rather than Wagner’s _Bridal Chorus_? Oh, what would our parents have said?”

Mila laid bleeding on the floor while the man continued to reminisce, his voice sounding as if he were murmuring from several yards away. Somehow through her blurred vision she was able to make out a familiar shape just beside her. She focused on the object until she could identify it: a small stuffed giraffe that had originally belonged to her 7 year-old son before he grew tired of it as he aged and it was passed on to his younger sister. The man’s voice droned on and Mila concentrated what little energy she had left into moving the muscles of her arm, the appendage slowly and shakily making its way upward for her bloodied hand to grasp the plush toy, leaving red fingerprints in its short fur. One last time. Mila just had to see them one last time. The noise around her washed away. Everything had begun to sound like she was back there in the glass cylinder, cold and alone, her ears flooded with water. The only difference was that her heartbeat had become incredibly loud, beating against her eardrums in its rhythmic death throes. Mila shut her eyes as tight as she could make them. The artificial lights of her living room did not allow for complete darkness, but her entire mind was determined to work through these imperfect conditions.

Eventually, Mila felt herself plunging as the walls, floor and ceiling of her home seemed to melt away. All surfaces gave way to inexplicable void as Mila felt her eyes open again. As she stared into the familiar darkness, it began to ripple and tear as it always did for her. Light shone through the fissures until the void opened up to allow memories to pour in like a pool of water. These were the toy’s memories. Every experience it ever had with her two children, every stimulus it might have sensed had it been a sentient being was in vivid detail before her. She could smell the baby powder she had used on her youngest and feel her oldest hug the toy to his chest during one of its old adventures in their garden. Mila heard her daughter babble to the toy giraffe in her crib and she could see the instant that her son had fallen in love with it as an infant. Tears stung the corners of her green eyes. Every second without them was agony, but soon. Soon she would be with them again. She could already feel herself slipping away.

Outside, the man finally returned from his own reveries to regard his victim and he noticed a stream of blood trickling from her nose and mixing with her falling tears, staining the carpet beneath her. The man’s bliss drifted away to reveal searing disgust underneath. He glanced quickly at the green pendant around his neck only to find it inactive. She hadn’t tried to attack him, but he was completely enraged at her anyway.

“Don’t even have the decency to listen to what you did to me,” he said through clenched teeth.

Suddenly, the front door swung open and someone stepped inside. The man never took his eyes off of Mila, even when her husband walked through the foyer and into the living room as he normally did. Looking up from his keychain, Mr. Parkinson stopped in his tracks and began to hyperventilate when he saw his children and wife’s lifeless bodies in bloody heaps on the floor, the smell of their innards mixed with tobacco and a hint of gasoline making him want to vomit.

“M-Mila...” he managed, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him.

Without missing a beat, the murderer turned swiftly, drawing his weapon. Then, as if it were nothing, he shot the other man directly between the eyes, sending him flying backwards and killing him instantly. The souvenir Hawaii keychain Mr. Parkinson had been holding made a sharp jingling noise when it crashed into the ground.

Paying no mind to the carnage, the sadistic man turned back to the main target of his rage. “Shame on me for thinking scum like you could ever feel enough empathy to allow me that.”

He took another drag from his cigarette to calm the storm swirling within him and then leisurely made his way through the backdoor, carelessly lighting and tossing a match onto a discarded laundry pile soaked with combustible liquid on his way out. As the little house slowly ignited behind him, the man briefly contemplated what would happen to him when his Brother found out. He then quickly dispelled the thought because _fuck it_. What was done was done.

* * *

_Friday, May 15, 1987_

It was hard to remember how she had gotten here again.

The void was much calmer this time much like when she had come here herself earlier that night, but it was also slightly different. Something about this dimension felt... wetter than it usually was. The lower surface was still covered in the same endless black water, but the atmosphere felt so thick with moisture that it was more like liquid than it was like air. It almost felt like when she was in the sensory deprivation tank back at the Laboratory. Shaking her head furiously, the teenage girl pushed that distressing thought as far away as possible. That was a long time ago and she would never have to worry about that again, she told herself.

Taking a few steps forward, El looked around to see if the mysterious girl would appear in the impossible blackness. She was sure that if she couldn’t recall purposefully astral projecting, she must have been pulled into this inner universe in her sleep just like last time. Sure enough, El’s eyes finally spotted a white speck against the black emptiness. It had to be her.

The young woman began to run as fast as she could toward the bright spot, the suffocating humidity around her feel less inclined to do anything too strenuous, but she continued anyway. El could feel herself closing the gap at a rate that should have been impossible if this world between time and space were at all affected by the laws of physics. The girl stood the same as she was, back turned to El with her gown and long auburn hair drifting about her even with no wind to carry it. Once again, the girl slowly began to turn to her, but before El could see her face, the void seemed to bend and then tear apart as if a massive hole had been clawed into it. El stopped immediately when a screaming, frantic and horribly bloodied woman burst through the distortion and violently grabbed her right hand. The teenage girl could see the red-haired girl in the hospital gown reach out to her before the woman fell and pulled the both of them into the infinite liquid darkness below.

El’s voiceless cries could not penetrate the emptiness as her consciousness descended. Sounds and colours suddenly began to grow around her and she could distinctly feel the strange woman grasping her hand tightly from some place that she could not see. The colours turned into shapes and El’s mind was flooded with senses that she knew didn’t belong to her. She, or whatever it was that was feeding her these feelings, was being held by a small tan-skinned girl with thick eyelashes and dark hair. The shapes became more defined and she soon realized that she was in someone’s living room. Inexplicably, El became aware that this girl was getting ready to walk to school with her big brother who was sitting on the couch reading a copy of _Nintendo Power_. Suddenly, their mother entered the room with a strange man; a pale-skinned, raven-haired man whose broad smile contrasted wickedly with his hateful eyes and made El want to run. He was holding a gun to the crying, panicked woman’s head. He was man-handling her. He wore an evil type of glee on his face like some unholy creature starved for blood. He was absolutely unhinged.

The little girl dropped El’s avatar to the floor in shock as her brother scuttled off of the couch and El realized she couldn’t move. This man was about to do something unspeakably horrible and she could only watch. _No_ , she whispered, eyes turning red with fresh tears. _No, I don’t want to see this._

The mother begged the attacker to leave them alone, but instead he said something teasingly before throwing her to the ground, her head colliding with the coffee table on the way down. The children started screaming and crying and El could do nothing at all. The strange woman’s hands wrapped around hers felt so very heavy and would have left dark red stains on El’s white Memphis patterned blouse if the woman were corporeal. _Stop! Please, I don’t want to see this!_

The man stepped forward and began to brutalize the son first but the fabric of the scene started to shift and tear and the woman’s grip wavered. El could feel her left hand being pulled away as the environment mixed seamlessly with the void.

“E..l..ven!” she could hear a familiar voice cry out. That was when another illusion began trying to manifest like two different scenarios layering one over the other in competition. Tearing apart from and weaving together with the carnage, El could see distorted visions of a long passageway, an old ghostly man in a shroud, and a shimmering green liquid, and then the entire image was overtaken by a darkness like a fire burning through everything and leaving only charred remains in its wake.

Then, there was a loud scream over the gentle tapping of raindrops on a window. It took El half a second to realize that she was the one who was shrieking.

Mike sat up immediately from where he was sleeping underneath her on the couch. Will, who sat wrapped up in a blanket like a caterpillar on the other end, jumped awake, as did Max from where she slept on the floor against Lucas’ chest. Tears streaming down her face, El tried to catch her breath as her friends woke up around her. They had all fallen asleep in a circle while watching _Aliens_ (the third movie in their marathon lineup) and binging on snacks. The discarded pizza boxes laid haphazardly on the ground near Will’s feet while the rented VHS cases for _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ , _Top Gun_ , _The Fly_ , _Christine_ , and _The Empire Strikes Back_ were piled closer to the TV (all delivered to them personally by Steve once he got off work). An open bag of barbecue Lays potato chips sat beside an almost empty bag of M&Ms near the pillow Lucas was using for his head and a huge bowl half-full of popcorn was forgotten on the ground just underneath where Mike and El had been sleeping on the couch. Dustin was still clutching a bag of Twizzlers in his hands when he too was startled awake by the psychic’s screaming.

“El!” Mike yelled, his heart pumping in his chest. He held his girlfriend’s shoulders in concern. “What’s wrong?!”

“Did it happen again?” Will asked meekly.

El just nodded and sobbed into her hands, completely disregarding the blood trickling from her nose. Instinctively, Mike wrapped his arms around her and let her cry against his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” inquired Max, crawling out of Lucas’ arms to get closer to her friend and put a hand on her knee to comfort her.

When she was ready, the frightened girl looked up from her hands and turned to address her friends, Mike’s arm still draped over her shoulder and his fingers entangled comfortingly in her hair. “It was... There was this man. He killed a whole family. I couldn’t do anything. I just laid there.”

Unfortunately, these kids were no strangers to death. It was no longer as disturbing as it once was to learn that people around them – even people they knew personally – were dying, but El’s distress still put them on edge. The teens exchanged worried looks, each of them unsure of what to do or say next.

“ _What the hell, man_?” Lucas finally cursed in frustration at what his friend was being put through. “This is bullshit. This girl randomly contacts you in your sleep and then fucks with you for no reason.”

“No,” El shook her head. “No, this time there were two of them. I think they both wanted to show me something, but...”

The girl let her head sink back into her hands and Mike held her closer, kissing her shoulder before resting his head on it. Will scooted a little closer to his step-sister too on the opposite side of where her boyfriend was and the other friends followed suit. El was tired and disheartened and she just wanted to be able to sleep. She wanted to be able to live life like a normal teenage girl. She wanted for the worst of her worries to be finals or Picture Day or detention. All of this mystery and terror was eating away at her mind. If it wasn’t Hawkins Labs, it was Russians and if it wasn’t Russians, it was whatever the hell all of this was. Sometimes, El wished that she never had these powers; that her mother was just a normal woman and not a test subject abused and then left to rot by the government for some “greater good”. El didn’t want to have to be punished for the circumstances of her birth anymore. The redhead in her dreams invaded her sleep, threw her life into yet another form of chaos, and couldn’t even give her a hint as to what this was all about... or did she?

Suddenly, El remembered. The red-haired girl was pulling her left arm, trying to free her from the woman’s desperate grasp. They were both yelling and she could hardly make out what either was saying over the noise of both their illusions, but she did remember that the girl had eventually defaulted to repeating one word over and over and over again.

Wide-eyed, El let out a sharp gasp and let her hands fall from her face.

“El? W-what is it?” asked Mike growing more frantic at the sudden change. “What’s wrong? El?”

“Please, El,” Max pleaded to the young psychic, looking up at her from where she was. “Talk to us.”

The young girl blinked a few times, her gaze still distant, and whispered what was possibly her very first clue into existence. “Six.”

* * *

**A/N:** Damn, that violent scene hurt to write... Since the first chapter of this story, I’ve had that in my head for some reason... Violence over _Air on the G String_. I think it’s because of how the song was used in Evangelion many years ago. lmao I would definitely recommend reading it with that playing in the back. It’s such a beautiful piece of music but it’s so chilling in these contexts... Well, I find it chilling anyway!

Please leave your feedback for this chapter (or any chapter really)! It’s greatly appreciated, it helps me improve, and it helps me stay motivated to continue. :)

Thanks for reading and I’ll see you in chapter 5.


	5. Baby Zeppelin

A/N: Y’AAAAALL. It has been SO long! How have you guys been? I started taking a summer course and it was so much work that I hardly had time for _any_ of my hobbies, never mind writing. I did a little bit here and there, but I ended up having to put this fic on a little hiatus in order to do my studies… But you might be happy to hear that I ended up getting an A overall. lol! Well, I won’t make you wait any longer. Please enjoy!

* * *

_Friday, May 29, 1987_

_‘Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!’_

Her lungs burned like balloons full of fire as she ran through the familiar twists and turns of the back alley, her mind racing at 1000 miles a minute. She kept trying to convince herself to calm down, to mute all but the most sensible of the arguing voices in her head, but it was hard to do when her heart was throbbing in her chest. Nevertheless, she needed a clear mind so that she could navigate these streets and remember their escape plan. They had never really needed it before because her gift had always kept them safe, but now, she had somehow found herself sprinting between buildings and climbing over fences with little regard for the fresh blood splattered on her cheek. That was a trauma she would have to set aside for later. Instead, she tried to just focus on what she was doing, force her body to continue even as it protested, and push the relentless panic away: _‘They saw us! They saw us! How the fuck did they see us?!’_

“Keep running!” cried Funshine between gasps for air from somewhere close behind her. She didn’t look, but she could feel Dottie to her left, part of her shirt torn by the jagged edge of the fence they’d just jumped and her face red with tears. When it happened, they all immediately scattered in two different directions, almost as if the action were choreographed. Axel and Mick could take care of themselves – Kali knew this – but Dottie was now the youngest member of the group and had always been the most emotionally vulnerable of them all. Kali was glad at least that she didn’t end up alone in the chaos… but Koichi...

Kali never quite figured out the 13-year-old boy’s story. He was a tall, lanky kid of Japanese descent, Kali figured, with a dark mullet that was slightly purple in some places (the result of a home dye job) and a piercing on the right side of his bottom lip. He reminded her of a miniature version of those guys Axel liked – X-Japan, Kali thought the band was called. One day, he just showed up like a shadow in the night with nothing but the clothes on his back and an acoustic guitar.

“Hey. I heard you could help me.”

That was all he said the first time they’d met.

Koichi was very quiet save for the hours he’d spend laying around in their hideout, strumming on Joanie, his guitar which he’d named after Joan Jett (he had a huge, obvious crush on her). When he did speak, it was often with a mostly smoked cigarette hanging out of one corner of his mouth, his low raspy voice halfway through that of a man and a child. Koichi would mostly avoid the topic of his origins (although Kali suspected he was a runaway) and instead preferred talking about music.

“What do you listen to?

“You ever hear _Symptom of the Universe_ by Black Sabbath?

“What about Alice Cooper? I can play some’n for ya if you like.

“Aw dude, there’s a Guns n’ Roses song about that _exact_ kinda shit.

“I snuck into a Kiss concert once. Some guy punched me in the face. It was fucking sick.”

He was a little like El in that he refused to kill, so instead, the homeless pre-teen ended up being a welcome pacifist fixture at their little shelter. They all came to view Koichi as a sort of little brother figure – this was especially true for team mom, Mick, who would often end up falling asleep to the gentle strumming of the little guy’s guitar after a long discussion about philosophy and life on the street. He could be incredibly insightful when you caught him in the right mood.

It took a while to finally figure out what Koichi’s talent was (aside from music, of course) since he never liked to talk about himself. Kali’s realization didn’t even come from any conversation directly on the topic (not that she hadn’t asked, but he had a very peculiar way of being able to sidestep anything he didn’t want to discuss further). They were all lounging about, Axel leaning against Koichi, strumming a song Kali didn’t recognize on his guitar.

“Got a cig?” Koichi asked nonchalantly, putting a pause on his playing and carefully setting Joanie down beside him. He was way too young to be smoking of course, but no one really denied him the pleasure.

Axel dug in is jacket pockets until he produced a pack and held out a stick for the kid to take.

“Thanks, bro.”

“Not too many of these, ya hear?” Axel’s morals in this regard may have been a little lax, but even he wasn’t entirely comfortable with limitlessly permitting Koichi’s habit. As he reached around to grab his lighter, Kali noticed Koichi hold the cigarette by the tip between his thumb and forefinger, focusing hard on it until a thin line of smoke slowly began to wisp its way out of his hand. Kali couldn’t tell if she’d seen Koichi’s pale skin glow for half a second or if it was just in her head. Just then, Axel jumped up from his spot with a yelp, a sudden sweat breaking out all over his face. “Whoa! What the hell!”

“Ah, sorry! My bad!” Realizing that he’d just flash baked his friend by accident, Koichi grinned and stuck the unlit side of the cigarette in his mouth. “I still haven’t learned to localize that yet.”

And so it was confirmed that Koichi was just like Kali and El – gifted, Kali called it. He had no mark on him and had never been referred to with a number. The monsters who stole Kali’s childhood had thankfully never touched his, and yet, her relief at that fact was short-lived when she remembered that he had nonetheless ended up there with her instead of living like a normal child. He was 13 years old and already homeless, smoking, and cussing like an aged rock star. His eyes were encircled by dark rings which gave them an almost bruised quality and, in his teeth, Kali noticed the beginnings of tobacco staining. Koichi had scars on his body that he would not explain and when he spoke about life (but never _his_ life), it sounded like he had lived it 1000 times. No, Koichi had never been trapped in a stale depressing laboratory nor had he ever been treated like a science experiment by a group of adults who ultimately cared very little for him, but somehow his childhood had still been stolen anyway (by who exactly, Kali was unsure). The world damned them if they were inside of Hawkins Lab and damned them if they’d never so much as touched the soil around the facility. The thought kept her up some nights: Who in the world hated people like them so much that this could be true?

Maybe she had gotten her answer that night.

It all happened so fast that it seemed like a blur. When Funshine ran in saying someone was coming, they assumed it was the police again. No big deal. They would need to move their hideout, but they were used to constantly being on the run. Koichi had already learned the most important rule: When shit goes down, stick close to Kali and don’t make a sound. And that he did. They all stood in place while Kali envisioned an illusion of an empty room in her mind. There were footsteps as the intruders ascended the stairs. The illusion user focused on them as the sound grew louder. Beside her, she could feel a sudden warmth wrap around her hand. She turned slightly to see Koichi, his chest rising and falling, an uncharacteristic anxiety in his eyes. He was afraid of being caught by the bad guys, it was like he’d hardly noticed that he had grabbed her. The cool, relaxed attitude he wore as a shield dropped, and for the first time, Kali could see him for what he truly was: just a scared kid who didn’t deserve what was happening to him. She let her fingers wrap tightly, reassuringly around his trembling palm. A sudden intense feeling of resolve pulsed through Kali’s body at that moment. She would defend her crew with her life if she had to. She would defend Koichi. She would steal back the bits and pieces of what remained of his childhood for him. With her comforting grip on his hand, she made that silent promise. Before the footsteps grew any closer, Kali cast her illusion as she had so many times before and to the outside world, the group ceased to exist.

Seconds later, two figures had made their way up and were standing in the group’s temporary residence when Kali realized she could hear another sound. The intruders both wore dark clothing, their faces hidden underneath their hoods, and there was a tiny green light shining on each of their chests. One of them – a woman, presumably – seemed to be walking around muttering to herself. Kali was confused. Mick flinched inaudibly behind her. Those weren’t police, so who the hell were they?

Kali’s eyes fixated on the silent one – a young man, as far as she could gather from what little of his facial features the light of the green stone of his necklace illuminated. Even under his dark hood, she could still make out his eyes and there was something about his gaze that she found so… unsettling. It was so focused and meaningful. Unwavering, like an archer drawing his bow and taking aim at some unsuspecting animal from behind a layer of thick underbrush.

It was almost as if he could still see her.

Somewhere to Kali’s left, the woman stopped pacing and turned to face the group. The green light only revealed the lower half of her face and her lips were still moving ever so slightly. She was just about finished with her whispering and that was when she drew her handgun. Kali felt a sinking feeling in her gut and the instinct to run began shouting at her in her head. That was when she realized… It hadn’t worked. Somehow, Kali’s illusion had failed. But there was an air of confusion that fell over the group. They had so much confidence in Kali’s abilities that a part of them said the women couldn’t possibly be aiming at them on purpose. Before any of them even could think to move, the woman’s muttering finally met a conclusion.

“Amen,” she whispered, the gun at her side making a clicking noise.

“Amen,” echoed the young man, and the next thing Kali heard after that was a muted pop. Dottie shrieked in terror, Axel’s voice cracked as a curse word struck the air, Mick called Koichi’s name as if her voice could possibly reach him at that moment, Funtime roared at everyone to run, and Kali’s now empty hand suddenly felt so incredibly cold.

* * *

_Saturday, May 30, 1987_

Will casually licked off the caesar dressing that had ended up on the top knuckle of his thumb and went back to mixing the bacon bits into the salad. Chester laid lazily in his dog bed, chewing on a rope toy and enjoying the setting sun in the corner of the room near the backyard. El in her neon colour-blocked top was at work beside Will, mashing potatoes and humming along with _I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)_ on the radio. Dance-pop wasn’t Will’s cup of tea per se (thanks to Jonathan, Will was more of a rock music type of guy), but Whitney Houston wasn’t bad. He liked her voice and a lot of her music was catchier than he’d like to admit. But it didn’t really matter what they were listening to because Will was just happy to see El feeling so cheerful after the month she’d had. It was still hard for her to find sleep every night with the possibility of surprise visits, but the excitement of being able to see her older step-brother and his pregnant girlfriend was enough to take her mind off of how tired she often felt.

Will was excited too. With both their lives changing so much, he and Jonathan could not hang out exactly the way they did when they were kids. In the old days, it was so easy for Will to just walk across the hall to knock on his big brother’s door for any reason he could come up with. Now, they didn’t even live together in the same house. It wasn’t that the two never saw each other. Jonathan always made an effort to make time for his brother and Will did the same. At least once every week, it was customary for Will and El to finish their homework quickly and make their way over to Jonathan and Nancy’s apartment for either game or movie night (and when that was impossible, the couple came to the Byers-Hopper house instead). On some nights, the quartet would make mini-pizzas (something the brothers did out of necessity when their father was too hungover to go grocery shopping but it also happened to be fun) and fire up the Atari that Will had brought from home. On other nights, they would make popcorn on the stove and catch El up on all the great Disney classics she had missed in her childhood ( _Bambi_ was always Jonathan’s favourite and Will and Nancy liked _Sleeping Beauty_ , but El found she preferred _Robin Hood_ so far).

Board game nights were fun too if not a little chaotic. Sometimes the night seemed to call for Dungeons and Dragons, a game that Nancy and Jonathan only kind of knew how to play while El had been growing into her mage role with the Party already, so she and Will the Wise would double as guides to their little fantasy world. Other nights were Monopoly nights where everyone’s wild side tended to burst forth in a cloud of paper money, laughter and junk food-fueled drama. Thanks to Will’s creativity, the chaos was matched by their use of props – among other things, a large cardboard box labelled “jail” that players sat in when their game piece was also behind bars, a crown for the prospective winner which would be mercilessly snatched from their head if they fell behind another player... If Mike wasn’t too busy, they would often invite him and Holly over too. Surprisingly, the youngest sister at only 7 years old was the most competitive of all of them at Monopoly, but it all made things a little more interesting. Holly played as if she lived solely to wear the painted cardboard crown.

Peppered between these events were random trips to the ice cream parlour on Main Street, the local pizza joint or the old arcade where Will and Jonathan could have some alone time. Will missed having his big brother so close, but times had changed. He was mature enough in his mid-teens to understand that Jonathan had to take off in his own direction sooner or later and some day that would be him too, but that didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t miss the feeling of knowing that his brother was only a few feet away.

Suddenly, the timer on the oven went off, pulling Will back from his thoughts and alerting him to the fact that the salad was indeed thoroughly mixed just as _Never Gonna Give You Up_ (a song Will despised, but watching El sway happily to it made it much more tolerable) started playing on the radio. In walked Joyce at a slightly rushed pace, still putting her nice earrings on before she opened the oven door to check on the pork chops. That night’s dinner wasn’t really formal – after all, it was just Jon and Nancy – but there was something in the air that made everyone feel like that night would be special. Maybe it was the pregnancy or maybe it was the young couple’s long absence, but Joyce was thankful for an occasion to primp herself up a little bit outside of going on dates with Hop or to church on Sunday (something she could do now that she wasn’t working ridiculous hours).

“Another ten minutes should do it,” Joyce muttered to herself and adjusted the timer. She then turned her attention to the duo at the table. “How are the sides coming?”

“Just finished the salad,” Will replied, pulling the plastic tongs out of the bowl.

“The potatoes are done too,” reported El before going back to singing along with Rick Astley.

“Thank you both very much,” Joyce smiled, checking over a plate of corn on the cob before turning back to the kids. The way she was hovering about made her look a little bit like a fancy bee, her yellow blouse that reminded her of sunshine tucked fashionably into high-waisted pants. “Would you two mind setting the table? They should be here any minute.”

“Sure, mom,” Will nodded and turned to get the good plates and silverware out of the cabinet to hand to his approaching step-sister.

As quickly as she’d came, Joyce was already gone to check on her boyfriend by the time the step siblings had laid the first silver spoon in its place. The two worked to the ambiance of the old radio cassette player which Jonathan had only used to make mixtapes back in the day. He’d upgraded some time while the family was living in Maine and left his younger siblings the old machine when he had moved out. There was a bounce in El’s step as she continued to surround the plates Will placed with the correct silver pieces.

“What do you think they’ll name them?”

“Huh?” Will asked, El’s voice bringing him out of his thoughts.

“The baby’s name. What do you think it’ll be?”

“Probably something weird,” Will chuckled to himself, holding the last kischy dish that Great Aunt Darlene had given them one Christmas in his hands. When El gave him a quizzical look, he explained further. “I mean, maybe Nancy likes normal names, but I remember Jonathan wanted to name Chester _‘Zeppelin’_.”

“‘ _Zeppelin’_?” she repeated in disbelief. The aforementioned pet glanced at them in response to hearing his name, but swiftly went back to what he was doing.

“Like Led Zeppelin,” explained Will. “Granted, he was like 12, he thought the word sounded cool, and I’m not sure if he knew it meant ‘blimp’, but still.”

A smile stretched across El’s face and she let out a little laugh. Will returned her laughter when their attention was suddenly diverted to the sound of the doorbell.

Hopper was coming up from the basement with a bottle of wine he’d gotten from the cold storage in one arm and some sparkling apple cider in the other when the teenagers zipped past him and almost made him drop everything.

“Whoa! Hey!” he cried out, clutching the two bottles closer to his body. “Jesus, kids!”

Will glanced back apologetically while El turned to face the older man. “Sorry, dad!” she called and continued to spin around until she was sprinting toward the front door with Will. In the light of the setting sun, they could see two figures, one a little taller than the other, standing together in the frosted window of the front door. Just as they reached them, the two had to stop abruptly when Joyce appeared seemingly out of nowhere to let their visitors in. She jumped and let out a little yip when she saw her son and her boyfriend’s daughter just barely avoid colliding into her, Chester following briskly behind out of sheer curiosity for what all the commotion was about. When he finally detected a hint of two remarkably familiar scents, the dog began to bark excitedly, his tail wagging behind him as he jumped up onto his hind legs. The two figures at the door visibly shifted at whatever portion of the chaos they could gather from outside.

“Will! El!” Joyce cried out, a little annoyed that the teens were galloping about so carelessly.

“Sorry, mom,” Will replied, bending down to try to get ahold of a bouncing Chester while his mother reached for the door handle with a sigh. She could forgive them for their enthusiasm.

El stood on her tiptoes and peered through the widening crack in the door with anticipation as it slowly swung open and Joyce’s voice rang out at her guests. “Hello! Oh my gosh!”

Jonathan and Nancy stepped in, greeting the family with huge smiles on their faces and their arms flung open to hug anyone who reached them. Hopper had joined them by then with a loud _‘Hey!’_ and caught Jonathan fresh from Will’s arms in his one-armed embrace, giving the younger man a few amiable pats on the back while his girlfriend held her son’s partner tightly as if she could somehow also reach her developing grandchild through Nancy’s petite body.

“Ooooh, it’s so good to see you!” Joyce said as she squeezed Nancy against her and shook her slightly from side to side.

Nancy laughed into the older woman’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Joyce! I’ve been so sick these past few weeks.”

“We’ve missed you both too,” said the older mother. “I’m sorry you’ve been sick. Pregnancy isn’t easy, hun, I’ve suffered through it twice… but I’m so happy for you two.”

“Aw, Joyce…” Nancy wasn’t sure if it was the hormones, but she had to fight back happy tears at Joyce’s words. Seeing this and understanding the emotional toll of carrying a child, the other woman embraced her again.

“How’s it goin’, kid?” asked Hopper, pulling back to look at the future father and taking one shoulder in his hand.

“We’ve been good! How are things here?”

“Not bad, not bad,” Hopper replied, proudly folding his arms over his chest. “We’ve been doing work on the house.”

“I’ve heard,” Jonathan nodded, remembering the sound of construction in the back of some of his phone calls to his family.

“Jon!” called Will, taking his brother’s arm in the same way he always used to before he grew to match his big brother’s height. “You should see my room now. I’ve got all this new shelving… and a new stereo!”

“ _Damn_ , a stereo!” Jonathan remarked in awe.

“Yup, saved up for it myself,” Will announced proudly. He had recently landed a part time job at the local movie theatre. The family was in a much better state financially than back when Jonathan was Will’s age, so he was happy to see his brother’s paycheque going toward fun things for himself.

“Come to my room after!” El exclaimed and then turned to Nancy, taking her hand. “Wanna come see? Max and I were redecorating the other day.”

“Sure,” Nancy smiled and then turned back to Hopper and Joyce. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, go on,” waved Joyce.

“Give us another 20 minutes,” Hopper said. “The kids have been dying to show you guys around anyway.”

And with that, the couple was pulled up the stairs and in opposite directions down the hall by each teenager, Joyce giggling at their enthusiasm while she and her boyfriend made their way back into the kitchen.

* * *

Jonathan gave an impressed whistle at the stereo system sitting beneath the wall shelf as if he were eyeing a shiny new car. The sleek silver machine glistened underneath the light of the ceiling fan; its dark wood panels polished to perfection. Will took a lot of pride in caring for the thing. It was the single most expensive purchase he’d ever made in his young life. For a while, he had been thinking of buying a Philips model he’d seen while visiting Lucas at RadioShack. That one was also very nice and Lucas was willing to let Will use his employee discount to get it, but then he saw _it_. Will caught one chance glimpse at the expensive Sony stereo while sorting through mail and instantly fell in love. The Philips was nice alright with its dual CD and cassette players and its large speakers, but the model by Sony also had a turntable at the top that Will just had to have, even if it meant more hours at the theatre. Jonathan could also remember seeing the beautiful machine himself in the Sears catalogue that would always find its way into his and Nancy’s mailbox, but with their financial obligations and tiny living space, a system like that was nothing but a distant sweet dream.

“Will, this thing’s awesome,” the older brother said, running his finger over the silver Sony logo and regarding the thing like unearthed treasure. “And this…” he turned his attention to the shelving above it, one row of which was filled with various CDs and cassettes. “I mean, you’ve got Television, Aerosmith, Queen, Pink Floyd…”

Jonathan stepped back to stand beside the grinning teenager and take in the sight before him. For a lifelong fan of 70s and 80s rock music like himself, this was truly heaven. He could only imagine the quality of the mixes he could have make on a CD rather than the little cassettes back at his apartment. “We _have to_ listen to these someday,” Jonathan said finally.

“Yeah, man,” Will chuckled, leaning against an old David Bowie poster he’d inherited from his brother. There were so many posters and drawings that the sky blue paint almost didn’t show through, but if Will wanted to have something gracing his walls, he had a way of finding space. “I can’t listen to it _too_ loud or else mom and Hopper get mad, but the sound quality’s so good, it doesn’t even matter how loud it is. It’s like you’re _there_.”

Jonathan turned to say something else to Will until he noticed something just past his brother’s shoulder – something leaning against the small wardrobe in the corner. He realized within less than a second that it was another poster, rolled up on the floor. “Couldn’t find room for that one?”

Will turned to follow his big brother’s gaze and when his eyes made contact with the thing, he suddenly seemed a little nervous. “Ah, no,” he said, a sheepish smile on his face as he turned back to Jonathan. “Guess I’m finally running out of space.”

“What is it anyway?” Jonathan began to make his way over to the thing to take a look, but just as he’d reached down to unfurl the poster, Will suddenly stopped him with a quick hand on his arm. Jonathan stood back a bit, bewildered surprise written on his face.

“It’s nothing! It’s uh,” Will sputtered. “It’s just something mom bought me.”

“You… don’t want me to see it?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just um,” Will paused, unable to come up with an excuse for his odd behaviour.

“I mean, I don’t _have_ to see it.” Jonathan could sense his brother’s discomfort and even though it confused him greatly, he didn’t want to overstep.

The younger brother’s mouth opened and no words came out until he relented, his face turning just a smidge pink. He knew Jonathan was the last person who would ever judge him, but something about this just felt different. It bothered Will that he felt a little embarrassed over something so small, but that was his feeling and he couldn’t put his finger on the reason why. Will didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from his brother though, so he pushed that feeling aside. “Go ahead. You can look.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Jonathan eyed Will cautiously but did as his brother said and bent slightly to grasp the poster before beginning to unfurl it with both his hands. He wasn’t sure what to expect as the poster opened out in front of him. What could have had Will acting so flustered? The way he stood there awkwardly, Jonathan half expected to see a bikini-clad blonde sprawled out on a beach towel or something, but that wasn’t something their mom would ever buy for him. Besides, the brothers had snooped in Lonnie’s magazine collection before, so it wasn’t like images of bikini-clad ladies should have been too embarrassing if it was just the two of them. Was that really something Will would hide from him?

It could have been a band poster – maybe something that was way outside of the realm of Will’s usual taste, but Jonathan already knew about his brother’s guilty synth pop music pleasures and never made him feel bad about them. Okay, so Will liked Depeche Mode. Big deal. Jonathan couldn’t conceive of what humiliating thing could possibly have been printed on that poster even after it was staring right back at him. The last thing the brunette expected to see was a regular old movie poster.

It was a movie Jonathan remembered he had taken Will to see a week or so after it first came out. He had owned a copy of _The Outsiders_ that he’d read in 8th grade and having enjoyed the novel himself, Jonathan figured maybe Will might like the film adaptation. Needless to say, he ended up loving it. The memory of a fun outing with his older brother might have had something to do with it, but _The Outsiders_ instantly became one of Will’s favourite movies. It was among the few VHS’s that the family-owned at the time and Will would watch over and over. But again, this was something Jonathan already knew about Will, so as he looked at the young faces of Ralph Macchio, C. Thomas Howell, Patrick Swayze and the others against a sunset sky, he still couldn’t understand the boy’s discomfort. The young man shrugged before speaking. “ _The Outsiders_ ,” Jonathan said. “Pretty cool.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

Now Jonathan was beginning to feel awkward. “You’ve got no room for this?”

“Uh yeah,” Will shifted his weight from his left foot over to his right. “I guess I’m finally running out of space.”

He had already said that. Jonathan just nodded and stared back, unsure what to think. Then, quickly dropping the subject, Will turned slightly back toward his music collection. “Hey, but you know, I finally found the _Godfather_ soundtrack!”

Jonathan made a mental note to himself about the whole conversation and allowed the topic to drop. He was sure Will would end up explaining himself sooner or later and he was willing to wait until his brother was comfortable enough to do so. Jonathan put the movie poster back then followed Will as he knelt down to the space built into the bottom of the stereo where a modest collection of vinyl records Will had found at the local mom-and-pop music store leaned cover to cover. “Oh sweet! How long did you have to dig to find it?”

Just as quickly as it had descended upon them, the weird air of tension dispersed once the topic shifted. Jonathan did not bring up _The Outsiders_ again for the rest of the night, but the strange interaction would stick with him for a long time.

* * *

Nancy sat back on the bright violet cheetah-print bedsheets beside El, her hand finding the Gizmo plush that laid on the girl’s bed and casually taking it to hug to her chest. She wasn’t sure what a girl who had been locked in a laboratory most of her life would be inspired by, but she discovered that the answer to that question was Memphis style and the clear craze. El’s love for vibrant colours and bold patterns should have perhaps been obvious from the trendy outfits she managed to put together for her dates with Mike, but it just hadn’t occurred to Nancy that El’s bedroom wall would be decorated with posters and magazine clippings of New Kids on the Block and Debbie Gibson, that her shelf would be full of Wonder Woman comics wherever her notebooks and high school texts didn’t take up space, that there would be rollerblades and softball equipment stuffed into corners to indicate her openness to trying out new hobbies, or that she and Max would have chosen a checkered print accent wall to contrast with the pastel pink on the other three sides. El already felt to Nancy more like a normal teenage girl than she had when they first met, but this both cemented it and spoke more to her origins. After having to stare at shades of beige and gray for so many years, it was no wonder that the young girl was so fascinated with colour. And after living the monotonous life of a test subject, one can’t be surprised by El’s enthusiastic curiosity for the outside world.

“So, what do you think?” El asked, lifting Chester up onto her bed. He had followed the siblings and Nancy up the stairs and almost went with the boys until he remembered that El kept a stash of treats in her room just for him.

“It’s pretty cool,” remarked Nancy, glancing at the clear purple phone on the nightstand and then back at El. “I love that wall! It reminds me of something you’d see on MTV.”

A grin spread across El’s face. “That’s exactly what Max and I were going for. I just wanted to make it as crazy as possible.”

“Jeez, you guys grow up so fast,” laughed Nancy, noticing the makeup on the little vanity by the window. It was something El and Max had only begun experimenting with on and off (Max had already started wearing her bright red now signature Revlon lip stick since 9th grade, but Hopper had only recently – and begrudgingly – allowed El to follow suit). Between the Rave hairspray and the Maybelline kissing potion gloss, Nancy could see she was starting to build a little collection. Even though she saw the kids every so often, it felt like they just kept on changing a little every single time. “You and Will… Mike too. All of you, really.”

“Oh, yeah,” the girl replied with a little shrug, Chester placing his furry little head in her lap. “I just started using those, but I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“Seems like you’re doing just fine, honestly. That’s a good colour for you,” said Nancy. She was close enough to El now that she noticed the little bit of blue she had applied around her eyes. It was true that her work was a little amateurish, but that was entirely appropriate for her age. It reminded Nancy of the times she had dabbled in her mom’s makeup herself back in the day. She had gotten significantly more skilled since then. “Bring your makeup over someday and I’ll show you how I do it.”

As Nancy’s eyes wandered the girl’s face, she realized that something seemed a little off. Just beneath the near-skin toned base of the makeup (neither El nor Max were quite experienced enough yet to find a foundation that suited them), there was something else – a darker color; something that made El appear just a little bit ill. Nancy may not have seen it if she hadn’t grown up around younger kids, but she was used to taking a quick check of those she cared for whenever she laid eyes on them. Just past the eyeshadow, there was the faintest hint of a dark reddish ring around each eye. Nancy scowled softly, remembering what she had been told much earlier about El’s strange dreams.

“El, have you been getting enough sleep?” Nancy asked.

The teen’s smile faded into a frown. Chester lifted his head to look up at her, sensing the change in her behaviour. “Um, kinda...? No…”

“Are you still having weird dreams?”

“Well, not _really_ ,” El lowered her eyes to her fingers, still gently scratching at the dog’s fur.

“What do you mean by ‘not really’?”

“I had _one_ ,” the teenage girl admitted. “At your house. Mike and everyone were there, but that was a little while ago. I haven’t had another one since but it’s just harder to fall asleep now. I don’t know when I’ll have another dream like that.”

“What are Hopper and Joyce doing about it?” Nancy asked slowly. She was well aware that many of El’s problems had less to do with any of the things that typical humans could help with and more to do with supernatural phenomena way outside of their capabilities, but she knew that El’s dad and his girlfriend were just as eager to try to solve those problems anyway. Hopper loved El like she was his own biological daughter and Joyce would likely adopt her too once the couple got marriage out of the way.

“Dad made an appointment with Dr. Owens,” El replied, looking back up at the young woman. “We’re just hoping he might know something…”

Nancy nodded. She could see that El didn’t like being reminded of these nightmares and seeing how happy the girl was before, she felt badly for ever having brought them up. “This is really upsetting you, isn’t it?”

The girl inhaled deeply, adjusting her position a little so she could sit more comfortably on the bed. Chester raised his head again at the disturbance but lowered it once more when El was still. “It’s just…” she paused, looking straight ahead and trying to find the right words. “I feel like I’m really starting to adjust to life in the outside world, but every time I let myself think things are going to be peaceful, they’re just not.”

Nancy watched El lower her head, the emotional fatigue now more obvious even than the physical fatigue. At that moment, she looked a little bit like her old self – the El who still knew so little of the outside world and regarded everything with a slight tinge of distrust. After the treatment she had been exposed to for so long, it took El a while to learn not to associate new experiences with pain. She eventually warmed up to cats once she realized that her mere touch would not hurt them and pools were something she had only recently learned to enjoy. She still had a bit of a tenuous relationship with amusement park rides, but the party was slowly helping her learn the difference between a rush and panic. El had made so much progress in the years since her release. It had been a long time since Nancy had seen that traumatized little girl from before, but here she was, sitting right beside her. “I thought I knew the extent of my powers, but maybe I don’t. And no one has any answers. I don’t want to deal with this anymore.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, the air around them suddenly heavy. Helplessness was a feeling Nancy was not entirely used to. When Mike came home crying in 3rd grade because Matthew Parker, a slightly older boy, was bullying him, Nancy too it upon herself to scare the kid away with the threat of a swirly in the girl’s bathroom. She got suspended and Ted and Karen were unhappy, but it was worth it. Problem solved. When Holly was terrified she wouldn’t make friends in kindergarten, Nancy bought her little sister a new Care Bears hairclip then instructed her on how to use it as a convenient conversation starter. Even years later, Holly still had a little soft spot for old Cheer Bear. Even with most of the supernatural situations, Nancy could never just sit back and be a victim. She always had to be proactive in some way. Whether she was solving her younger siblings’ issues or following the trail of rabid rats, Nancy always managed to find some way to help, some way to lend her expertise, but this time was different. She couldn’t exactly get inside of El’s head and chase the nightmares away. She couldn’t find their source and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what they might mean if anything. She did the only thing she could at that moment.

El looked up at the young woman as she felt herself being gently pulled into Nancy’s shoulder, the Gizmo plush now laying against one of El’s pillows. After a brief pause, the teenager allowed herself to wrap her arms around Nancy’s body to return the embrace. Chester adjusted himself accordingly so that his head was comfortable in El’s lap again and the three of them sat there in an oddly comforting silence.

* * *

_Friday May 15, 1987_

Every morning, Azrael’s routine was much the same.

She woke up at daybreak every morning, her blond hair braided and laying perfectly underneath her. She would spend an hour praying – this was what she considered to be the most important part of her daily ritual. It was always necessary for one to cover themselves in the armor of God to protect from the temptation of the enemy. She would not leave her bedroom until she felt sufficiently covered. After this, the next step was to wash up for the day and eat breakfast. At this point, she would seek out her Eldest Brother in his chamber and he would communicate her mission for the day, or the week – however long it took. This was the second most important part of her day and the reason why she needed to remain steadfast with her prayers. Every day, Azrael was thankful that she had been given the chance to serve her Lord in this way and rescue the begotten from eternal suffering.

Admittedly, she had not always been so selfless. Before dedicating her life to spreading His love, she was another person entirely. She did not like to think of that life she lived, and so she did not. None of that mattered anymore. That person no longer mattered.

Azrael made her way down the corridor to accept her mission, her spiritual armor as strong around her body as it ever was. She had tied her hair up in a neat little bun and wore the uniform that she had washed and ironed the night before. It did not take long for her to become aware of his presence as she could hear his slow footsteps before she saw him. Azrael could recognize the sound of his saunter anywhere. What she almost did not recognize was his limping form, walking in her direction, his eyes not even coming up to glance at her.

Azrael stopped in her tracks. She had heard of his past misdeed already and cursed her spiritual brother’s lack of self-control but seeing him like this was different from anything she could have conjured up in her imagination. “C-Cassiel?”

The tall man paused as he passed her, one hand on the wall to support himself. He did not turn to face her.

“What–”, Azrael stuttered in shock. “What happened to –”

“You know damn well what happened to me,” the man called Cassiel laughed bitterly through a dark grin.

It was true. She did know. In fact, she had prayed that he would be shown mercy before bed the previous night.

“Cassiel,” the woman turned to the man’s back as she spoke. “You need to learn to control yourself. We’re not here to punish them. We’re here to save them. That man and those children had nothing to do with–”

“ _Don’t you dare fucking lecture me, Azrael,_ ” spat Cassiel, swinging back in an attempt to stand up straight only to crash into the wall. Even given his disposition, he glowered at her all the same. “ _Save them_ …” he repeated her words as if they tasted sour on his tongue. “They all deserve to be slaughtered. Every last fucking one of them. _Save them_ – what are you?” he stepped closer to her then, large and intimidating, and beat the wall to punctuate his final word. The sound reverberated throughout the hall but Azrael did not flinch. “Mother fucking Teresa? Huh?”

“Watch yourself, Cass,” warned Azrael calmly.

“Is that what you did to what’s-her-name?” the corners of Cassiel’s mouth spread across his face into a big, mocking smile that made his teeth look more like fangs. “Little Beatrice? You _saved_ her life? Right, Azrael?”

“Yes.”

Just as quickly as it had formed, Cassiel’s grin fell. “ _What_?”

“I did save her life,” Azrael replied, the conviction in her voice almost haunting. “I loved her so much. I couldn’t possibly let her endure what fate had planned. My actions, unlike yours, were entirely pure.”

Cassiel merely stared at the woman in front of him with his mouth hanging open, the disappointed of having been robbed of an opportunity to hurt Azrael deeply apparent across his face. He growled in defeat as she turned back around to continue down the corridor, but she stopped and faced him once again.

“By the way,” said Azrael, her coat swishing to catch up with her movement. “I forgive you for trying to hurt me.”

And after a very pregnant pause, the blond woman was back on her way to see the Eldest Brother. Cassiel scoffed and turned into the opposite direction toward his bedroom quarters. He really, really despised her sometimes.

* * *

A/N: Haha, little bait-n-switch with the “Baby Zeppelin” title. No, that’s not the baby’s name. lol I think I now know what their name and gender will be, but I’ll let you guys find out. People aren’t really leaving any suggestions anymore, but technically, I’m still taking them so let me know and maybe you’ll sway me! Thanks for reading. 😊


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